


Queen x of x Diamonds

by peanut_gallery_ghostwriter



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Cannibalism, Dark Comedy, Fighting Kink, Fluff, Heavy BDSM, I actually plan on updating this, Minor Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Multi, Murder Family, OC is fucked, Onomatopoeias are lyfe, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Queer Themes, Rubber and Gum, Smut, Tesoro, They all need therapy, This is full of headcanons jsyk, Vanilla Kink, ass worshipping, breath play, thwack smack bam, whiz pop wham blam pow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 14:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanut_gallery_ghostwriter/pseuds/peanut_gallery_ghostwriter
Summary: In which Hisoka meets another special target of interest at the Hunter exam.I was doing a little mental game about what sort of character *might* persist in Hisoka's romantic and/or sex life (other than Illumi), and came up with this femme fatale inspired queen bitch, Tesoro.
Relationships: Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter)/Original Character(s), Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck/Original Character(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	1. Primadonna Grrrl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (12/6/2020) Hi! I guess I haven't updated this since just before the pandemic... weird how time flies. Sorry for the radio silence. Mental health bad. Motivation gone. I *finally* have some energy to work on this again! I've missed Tesoro v much. Ugh. She sucks so much and I love her for it. Sorry that I've kept her away for so long. Before I publish the fourth chapter, I'm gonna take some time to edit the first three. Nothing is going to change plot-wise, but I just wanted to improve what I've written a little bit... I always find errors... I really should look into having someone beta. Anyways. Thanks for reading. I love seeing y'all interact with this <3  
> Okay also lol this story has almost as many subs as it has kudos and that pleases me greatly

Tesoro rips a sharp, gold-painted fingernail across the glistening membrane of egg yolk and it bursts. Golden yolk spills over a generous scoop of bloody tartare to the base of the shiny metal mixing bowl. Without wasting time, she impales the meal with a spear of crusty bread, scoops up a hearty bite of yolk-soaked, fatty, raw meat, and brings it to her mouth. Her pale, pink eyes brighten, and she smiles excitedly at the food. Tesoro licks her lips, and takes her first bite with a satisfied smile. 

“Wow, that's good,” she says, looking at her reflection in a mirror. Oily bread crumbs cling to her delicate fingers. It feels gross. She shakes her hand out, but the crumbs remain. “ _You_ are a culinary marvel, Fred-er-rick.” She smacks her hands against her bare thighs faster than the speed of sound and the breadcrumbs launch from her fingertips; however, the resulting pressure wave shatters the light bulbs at her vanity's border. Was it worth it? Who can say. On her feet, a fluffy white cat--who is somehow immune to the boom--flinches and hisses, but aside from that, Tesoro gets no response.

“Oops. Sorry, honey.”

She’s seated at her glamorous vanity in front of a mirror so large and so perfectly illuminated that--if she desired, and, if she could see well--she _could_ bend over any time of the day and examine the fine hairs of her ass. But not right now. Right now, Tesoro scrutinizes her face with those pale pink eyes and pursed, pouty lips and runs through a mental checklist of outfit necessities: latticed, gold headband, _check_ ; gold studded ruby and pearl earrings, _check_ ; and sparkles for zazz, _check_. She tucks her dark unruly hair behind her ears, and relaxes into her chair while regarding herself with a queenly smirk. 

Tesoro is a tall woman, standing about six feet tall, and she’s athletically built: notably, she has a long, trim, and lovely waistline that tapers into a curvaceous, strong ass, and beautifully powerful legs. Her face is lovely as well. Tesoro particularly loves her sultry eyes, lips, and strong jawline; and she thinks these features lend themselves to making her appear more androgynous, which turns her on. She doesn’t usually wear makeup, because Tesoro is way too farsighted to be able to see what she’s doing.

She also thinks glasses would ruin her look.

There’s a glint from her collarbone. She pinches at the spot, and from it produces a thin piece of glass. Tesoro absentmindedly flicks it over her shoulder, and sends it flying to who knows where. Then, she admires herself some more. It seems that, now, everything is in order. 

“Bernard!" She calls. It is incredible how loud she is. "Pour me a glass of Zin!" 

Tesoro lifts the sleepy kitty from her feet, deposits them onto the massive bed just behind the vanity, and dances past her house’s largest window overlooking a lush meadow and dense forest. Of course, the magnificent window is also a part of her bedroom and missing any sort of curtain to block incoming sunlight morning, noon, or afternoon. After all, when one affords luxuries like Tesoro, living spaces are more beautiful than they are functional. 

It is just before January and here, in the middle of absolute nowhere, snow smothers the grass and delicate flowers outside. Feathery owls and fuzzy mice and rats are returning to their humble homes after a long night of rousing, and morning doves are stirring. Yet when they hear the ‘pop’ from uncorking a bottle of Zinfandel accompanied by the angelic singing voice of nobody’s sweetheart, all creatures within a kilometer radius of her grounds run for their lives.

It’s silly though, because _they_ don’t have anything to fear. 

Now in her kitchen, Tesoro cuts a perfect slice out of a tall, white cake while tipping an overly-full chalice of red wine to her lips. She swallows a mouthful of wine, takes a bite of cake, and tips the chalice back again. At this point, Tesoro is absolutely _glowing._ _Red._

“A perfect end to a perfect night. Thanks, Bernard,” she beams, and retreats back to her room, where she stalls and grimaces at the mess she made: a large painting of a beautiful island has a gash across the center and barely hangs on to its mount; the carpet is littered with feathers and broken lightbulbs; the bed is somehow missing a leg and slanting towards the floor; her Ritz-caliber, feathered pillows are nowhere to be seen; and there’s a spattering of blood across the far wall.

“Oh, yeah.” 

Also there’s a dead man on her bed. His left leg has been amputated recently. Ever the performer, Tesoro squirms and pretends to gag.

“Fred, god, you're a _mess_.” 

She taps her foot several times, but aside from that the house is absolutely quiet. Tesoro hugs her naked chest, curls her toes into a lavish, burgundy shag rug, and looks up at the art deco wooden ceiling while letting out a troubled sigh.

“ _Why do I do this._ ” It isn't a question.

But, hey, at least _this time_ she remembered to tie a tourniquet before sawing the limb off.

Tesoro frowns in thought, and then shrugs. She waves her hand in the air as if to say ‘fix this’ to no one, and retreats to her stylish, marble-tiled bathroom where she draws a bath in a massive clawfoot tub. It's conveniently placed next to a luxurious large mirror that competes in dimensions to her vanity's. Without wasting another moment, she hops in while waving at her cute figure in the mirror

The feeling of the cold floor of the tub against her ass juxtaposed with the steaming hot water caressing her thighs stirs butterflies in Tesoro’s heart. But _something is missing_ , Tesoro thinks. 

“Hm…” She leans over the edge of the bathtub and grabs a bath bomb from a basket within arms reach. She tosses it to her feet and watches the ball fizz itself to completion. It dyes the bath a shimmering gold and disperses the scent of sweet rose throughout the tiled room. Tesoro opens her legs, rests her knees against the sides of the tub, and rests the middle and ring fingertips of her left hand on her clit.

“Bernadette, prepare breakfast for the other groundskeepers. And please, locate Frederick to the freezer. While you're down there, could you also survey the available space? I'm going on a grocery run after this,” she says, sinking to the base of the tub and submerging her face in shimmering bathwater, pressing her fingers and moving them back and forth. She holds her breath, but not for long.

From all the way at the other end of her great property, the distinct clack and roll of wooden wheels against her driveway resurrects her from her golden soak and near-little-death.

By her design, no uninvited outsiders have visited her in the eight months she’s been living here. She chose this location specifically because she can be absolutely fucking alone any time she fucking wants.

She rises from the bath, curses, seizes her chalice, and storms out of the bathroom. Seconds later, Tesoro is dripping wet and clad in nothing but an oversized velvet robe, house slippers, her garish gold headband, and gaudy earrings; and she’s strutting across the longest and most ornate room in her house: a “hallway” joining the front entryway to the rest of her home. It’s practically ballroom sized; honestly looks like its supposed to _be_ the Sistine Chapel; and, appropriately, everything that looks like gold in this room _is_ gold. 

After hurdling over several obstacles, Tesoro arrives at her baroque front door and throws it open with enough force to startle the five men standing on her porch. She barely remembers to pull the robe over herself.

“Oh, good morning.” They seem to have all carpooled in a horse-drawn wagon, and are carrying pitchforks and lit torches. “Can I help you? I was in the middle of bathing.” She clutches to her door and hides part of her body to feign shyness. Kept clandestine behind the door, she holds her chalice up and sneaks a sip. The blush on her face is purely from the heat of the bath, but the angry townsfolk don’t need to know that.

Someone in the back mutters, " _What the fuck, she's_ _huge,_ " under his breath. Tesoro swallows her amusement.

A brave one stammers after an awkward moment of silence, “Ehh. We are here to speak with the owner of this property.”

“This is she.”

There is more silence.

Finally another brave soul says something: “Who are you? Where have you come from?”

Suddenly, they’re all feeling a little more confident: “Where did this house come from?”, “You can't be here!”, “Show us your papers!”, “ _You_ have been bringing destruction to our town!”, “My wife _left_ me!”, “Bad omens!”, “They’re all very angry, but, eheh, let’s try to work something out?”, “Phil is right, she seems fine--”, “Witch!”, “A lot stealing witch!”

“What's this about your wife? Dear me. Am I in trouble?” Tesoro tries to look as caught off guard as she possibly can. 

“No! Not at all--” one starts, he blushes madly and throws his pitchfork to the ground, but an elbow to the gut interrupts him.

  
“Yes. You are,” the initial speaker says, who has now found a commanding voice. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the laws regarding residency here, Miss? This house was not here last I checked… about a year ago. As neighbors, and as patriots to this country, we must know: are you a citizen of Grenishland? If so, who authorized this house be built? If you are, however, not a citizen, you _must_ _leave_.”

“My name is Tesoro. What a misunderstanding--of _course_ I am a citizen here,” she isn't, “and I have my building permit in my office back in my old home,” but Tesoro doesn't even have an office. "I'm sorry, but I don't have it with me right now... Though, surely you all looked up my information before coming here--you know, it's with our local authorities."

“Liar!” says the one who called her a witch. He thrusts his torch at her. 

“Ooh. Careful, now. That is stupidly close to my face, sweetheart.”

“Show us your papers,” demands the authoritative man.

“I just told you, I do not have them.” Tesoro frowns. “Pity. I am afraid I may have to ask you to return if you would like to see those. Many of my papers, including my proof of citizenship and birth certificate, are still in prior home," actually, they don't exist. "I'm still in the middle of moving," but she isn't.

“Then we’ll let you go, good day Miss Tesoro--” the same gentle man as before is interrupted by an elbow to his gut, again. Tesoro notices briefly that the man’s pupils have dilated into the shape of hearts. She winks at him, and he practically faints.

Tesoro shifts her weight to her other hip, and lets out a mouthful of air. This is a drag, she thinks. She looks beyond the men at the dense forest, and bites her lip, thinking about how she’ll need to refill the tub once she returns from this. _Then_ she looks at the authoritative man who is talking his face off, and narrows her eyes. He can’t use nen--none of them can. Of _course_ none of them can. Tesoro smiles a mean smile and licks her lips.

Just as she's deciding on how she'd best like to kill them right now, a thought occurs to her that makes her mouth turn so far down that the corners of her lips are practically off of her face: these men are likely from the nearest town 100 kilometers away, and that is the _only_ local town that she frequents for groceries. If she were to end this by killing them all, then she’d likely be shooting herself in the foot. Tesoro thinks she feels a headache coming on.

They’ve all gone silent. Are they waiting for her to reply? She wasn’t paying attention. _Oops._ Anyhow. To her dismay she has no choice but to free them all.

With a little trick of the tongue and strong eye contact, she simply tells them, “Very soon, I'll provide you with all the papers your hearts could possibly dream of, simple countrymen. I will be out of town until then. But please be aware: it will be dangerous for any of you to set foot upon these grounds while I am away, should you attempt to demolish this homestead in my absence. How does this sound?” 

She’s met with open mouth stares. One of them lost the ability to keep his eyes open. So odd.

“I am so glad you understand. Okay, now put out your stupid torches, load yourselves back into your medieval wagon, and go home. Unfortunately, we'll be in touch.”

Without further negotiation, they stumble, thank her for her time, and leave. Tesoro slams the door once they’ve all finally scrambled away. She’s about to order Bernadette from across the house to drain the bathtub--it has surely gone cold, now--but before she can do that, a big, black and white cat with a mustache pattern under his nose hops onto a decorative table near the entryway. Upon seeing him, Tesoro's expression softens.

She scoops him up and holds him high above her head. His little back legs and swishy tail dangle like a little doll, and he meows at her with a raspy voice. She beams.

“Bernard,” she says, “my most cherished butler and companion, I’m going to be leaving the estate in your hands while I am away. Inform the others.” She gives him a big kiss on his forehead and then lets him go. He saunters down the long hallway, purring. 

There’s another knock at the door. 

“ _What_.” Tesoro throws the door open and regards the man standing before her: he’s the smitten one with the heart-shaped eyes. “Oh, hi.” 

He chokes on his words, but eventually stammers, “We’ve not going to give you a hard deadline, but preferably, if you could get us those papers within the year that would be great. S-so don’t worry about losing the house.” He’s wringing his hat in his hands sheepishly. "So sorry for the intrusion."

“Ah, thank you. I appreciate it, safe travels.” 

“Cool.”

Tesoro is about to close the door, but she catches it just before it slams shut. “What is your name?” 

“Redd.”

“Handsome. Pleasure to meet you, Redd.” 

His face turns red.

Tesoro closes the door again, she takes a sip from her chalice contentedly, and begins the long journey back to the main part of her house but she is interrupted by yet another knock at her door. 

Her aura darkens. Her fist clenches around brass and glass cup, and she bends its neck ninety degrees as if it were a pipe cleaner. The grand hallway vibrates from floor to ceiling, shaking dust from the higher limits of the room as she turns on her heel. Tesoro storms to the front door one last time, and while she’s at it she chucks the ruined religious relic to the wall beside her and shatters it into a million pieces.

She opens the door and greets the same man. “Redd, back so soon.”

He asks her out. 

Tesoro rolls her eyes, pretends as if she were about to plant a kiss on his cheek, and whispers a secret into his ear. 

Redd stumbles back to the wagon, obsessively wringing his hat in his hands and sweating. His fellow townsmen are berating him with crude one-liners and patting him on the back for even trying, but he doesn’t hear them. He’s preoccupied. He clutches his heart, and whispers something about a god who may or may not be among him. 

Finally free in her house again, Tesoro dances down her grand hallway towards her kitchen. En route, she procures her Razr from the pocket of her velvet robe, and dials her sister. It rings only once before Oriana picks up the call.

“Ciao princessa. Are you free, my sweet little sister? Oh good, can I visit? I am home. I have cleared the dining room for you, if you hold on just a moment I will bring you some lunch.” Tesoro kicks a rogue discarded chalice out of her path, and it joins a collection of others at the corner of the grand hallway. No chalice is the aesthetically same, but all are similarly trashed.

“Mhmm, oh I want to hear about all of this. Yes. Of course! No, I'm _not_ just saying that,” but she _is_ just saying that. Tesoro holds the phone against her ear and frees both hands to drag a day-old dead body out of the hallway by its ankles.

“Goodness. Oriana, honey, give me an extra moment, I am encountering obstacles.” She shoves a side door open, plants one foot, pivots and chucks the body into a pit next to the grand hallway. “What? Gosh. I am sorry. I am distracted.” When she returns to the warmth of her humble castle, she’s confronted by a freshly smeared blood trail. She scrunches her nose, and holds the receiver away from her mouth for a moment.

“Bernard! There’s a mess in the hallway!” 

Far away, Bernard croaks a long, tired meow.

Moments later Tesoro is finally in her kitchen. She grabs the mixing bowl full of tartare, a crisp loaf of bread, two eggs, and her bottle of wine. And then, Tesoro tells her sister that she’s ready. She dances to the dining room where she immediately disappears falling through a hole in the ground. 

* * *

Oriana, chewing on a huge mouthful of bread and juicy meat, looks at Tesoro with smiling eyes. 

Oriana and Tesoro sit across from each other at Oriana’s completely drab kitchen table in her completely drab apartment on the 151st floor of Heaven’s Arena. It would be an odd sight to an outsider: on one side of the table sits an imposing 26 year old primadonna clad in little more than an insubstantial bathrobe and her essential jewels; and on the other side sits a charming 14 year old, who is rarely seen without her rollerskates. They call each other sisters, but Tesoro has olive toned skin, towers in height, and is menacing; whereas Oriana has deep golden skin, is petite, and is completely reasonable. 

They really couldn’t look anything less alike. But they aren’t sisters for shallow biological reasons, so it would be unreasonable to expect them to resemble one another.

The apartment is the standard for all at Oriana’s level in the tower, so it’s totally boring by Tesoro’s standards. And aside from the boring architecture, there’s no central theme in her sister’s decorating: Oriana has movie and band posters at every corner, _none of them_ are framed, not even Tesoro’s (Tesoro has been many interesting things so far in life, including, briefly, a famous pop star under the fake name ‘Felicia Treasure’), fluffy blankets and cute stuffed animals are cast about all over the place, and there are souveniers tucked in every nook and cranny. It’s a mess.

It’s also dirty. Oriana always has a mess of dishes in the sink even though she clearly never uses her kitchen. 

“What’s up?” Oriana asks, before taking another big bite of food.

Tesoro produces a brand new brass chalice from a hidden pocket within her robe, and pours herself a fresh glass of wine. “The townspeople have finally spotted me, so now I need to convince them I'm both a citizen and a legal property owner... otherwise things are going to get uncomfortable.” Tesoro huffs and takes a sip of her wine. “But--Ori, this is the worst part--if I take care of things the simple way, then it's unlikely that I'll be able to use that grocery store any more.” She swirls the cup around slowly. “Which would suck--I love shopping there. They have very nice produce.”

“You mean, if you kill everyone, then there’ll be no one to run the grocery store?” Oriana clarifies, addressing Tesoro as though she were a child. “There are so many ways to deal with this, and none of them involve killing the locals.” 

Tesoro grimaces, but then she looks at the meat that Oriana contentedly devours and feels a little better. Tesoro beams proudly from across the table. “What do you suggest I do? You always have good ideas.”

Oriana does not understand the sudden shift in Tesoro’s demeanor, but she chooses to ignore it. 

“I’m gonna take the Hunter exam this week. Don’t know how long it takes, but a Hunter’s license is good enough to let you stay in a bunch of restricted countries.” Ori takes a good bite, chews loudly, swallows, slurps, burps, and then gives Tesoro a fully toothed smile. 

Tesoro claps her hands excitedly, and the sound bursts a lightbulb overhead, “Genius--that's a perfect solution, Ori. Gosh. You've just solved my problem. Uhh. Would you mind company?”

“Don't be silly,” Oriana casually replies. She squints at the jagged glass that used to be a bulb, and then she shrugs. “We're a team.” Then, with a preemptively unfazed disposition, asks, “Who was this?” 

“Fred?" Tesoro smiles a small smile. "He was that handsome guy at the SU bank down the street with the cute mole on his cheek... you know, the one who had been stealing for me. He called me a couple of days ago. Said some cute things. Things got heated.” After a thoughtful smile, Tesoro sighs melodramatically. “Shame about the money though… He was stealing _so much_.”

“ _Ehh?_ ” Oriana picks up her empty bowl, throws it atop a pile of other bowls in the sink, and exits on her rollerskates. She’s about five feet tall with the rollerskates on, and even though she’s technically still in the age range where she could grow, she stopped doing so about three years ago. “What the heck goes on in your head?” She complains from the other room. “Psycho freak.”

“So mean.” Tesoro hears the wheels of Oriana’s skates turning about the rest of the apartment, out of sight at the moment. Hidden from her sister, Tesoro is making all sorts of unamused faces. She brings the wine to her lips and finishes off the cup, but wastes no time refilling the chalice and downing the next glass in three gulps. “Why does she insist on using slurs.” Tesoro grumbles. She says a little bit louder.

"You _kill_ people," Oriana calls back.

"And?"

After some amount of silence from another room Oriana asks: “Will you be ready to leave in a couple of days?”

“Sweetheart, I'm ready right now.” Tesoro fills the chalice again. The wine bottle is officially _empty_. Dead soldier.

“You can’t go out in those clothes.” Oriana skates back into the kitchen. She’s changed into her classic look: distressed jeans and scoop neck t-shirt combo. Tesoro thinks she looks perfect. After a moment of admiring her little sister, Tesoro looks down at her outfit in surprise.

She slowly brings her wine back to her lips muttering, “Is there something wrong with what I am wearing?”

"At least put on some underwear."

"Is my outfit bugging you? I mean, I can put on more clothes before we go, but we're not even leaving for few days..."

“Also stop drinking, you’ll need to be sober.”

“Ooh. _Ouch_ Ori, what do you think I am? A lush? It will take me one hour to sober up, and we have _days_.”

* * *

~Three~Days~Later~

_10:35_ **_Princess_ **I’m almost to the registration area I think

_10:35_ **_Princess_ **Where tf are u?

Moments later, she receives a call from Tesoro.

“What is it?” Tesoro asks.

“Did you even read my texts?” Oriana complains. “Where are you? I think I’m almost at the registration.”

“I did not read them…” specifically, she _could_ not read them because she has trouble seeing her phone display unless she squints dramatically and holds the phone at odd distances from her face. “Oh that's great news. I'm at the sandwich shop down the street from your apartment. Can you fetch me?”

Oriana fumes.

“I will make it up to you, _promise_.” Tesoro says sweetly. “In fact, I'll make it up to you right now.”

Oriana rolls her eyes, thinks about what would happen if she simply didn’t rescue Tesoro, but ultimately concedes. She tells Tesoro to go to the bathroom at the sandwich shop. 

Oriana opens a portal, and Tesoro comes smashing through the hole in the ceiling looking like she’s had the rug yanked from under her. She lands gracelessly on her ass while holding three sandwiches against her chest and a coffee up and away from her body. The hot beverage spattered onto Tesoro’s arm and onto her wide-framed, cat-eyed, dark sunglasses. Her phone bounces across the floor. Oriana watches in amusement.

With pained effort, Tesoro sets the drink on the ground gently, tosses two of the sandwiches to Oriana, and then produces a strong audible vibration that extends down her arm and shakes the creamy coffee off of her skin. Then, she cleans her sunglasses, replaces them, and pinches the bridge of her nose in discomfort. 

“Was that you punishing me for not accompanying you?” Tesoro huffs. 

“Yeah.” Oriana smiles as she opens the camera app on her phone and snaps a picture of Tesoro looking dejected and pitiful on the ground. Even in states like these, though, Tesoro can’t help but own the dishevelled look. It’s as though she’s just fallen in the middle of a fashion show. Oriana saves it as Tesoro’s contact photo.

“And is the bribery sufficient?”

“I guess.” _Yes._ Oriana tears the wax paper off one of the sandwiches and contentedly takes a bite. 

“You tease me.” Tesoro takes a sip of coffee.

“All I’m saying is that I would’ve preferred a veggie burger.”

“Hm. That's fair. Next time I'll take your order.”

The elevator comes to a stop and dings. Its doors roll open to reveal the registration room. 

Tesoro slowly gathers herself and stands up, but there’s a wobble to her. Oriana chooses to ignore it.

They exit side by side. Oriana, still clad in her rollerskates, stands just short of Tesoro’s shoulders. She’s wearing loose-fitting maroon pants and a cute t-shirt, which is practical. Her arms are crossed in front of her body, and her expression reads aloof, but her shoulders are back and she holds her head high. Oriana is ready. 

Tesoro, on the other hand, doesn't appear ready. Her outfit is fine, sure. She's wearing golden mary-jane flats, functional high waisted black pants, a tight-fitted maroon top, and those wide-framed cat-eye sunglasses. As always she’s donned her golden headband, and her garish, ruby and pearl, gold studded earrings. Her hands are on her hips, her chin is high, and she looks like a queen bitch; but the sheen of sweat on her forehead and the greener tint to her complexion tells a different story.

Tesoro, tetchy, chucks her sunglasses off to a far corner of the room with the flick of her wrist, and when they hit the far wall they shatter to pieces. 

“Welcome to the official registration ceremony for the Hunter’s Exam. Here you go, please take your number. Stick it on your chest and don’t lose it.” 

Oriana immediately wants to switch numbers with Tesoro: 22 for 23. 

“Take it, I do not care,” Tesoro says. She takes Oriana’s number 22 badge, and smacks it onto her shirt. She wants to throw up.

They cross the large open space together, and sit in the center of the underground holding room. Finally at rest, Tesoro finally takes a bite out of her own sandwich. It’s tomato, basil, and mozzarella, which is usually her favorite, but she’s barely able to swallow one bite because her head is pounding and her stomach feels like it’s flipping upside down.

“You are getting crumbs all over me, love,” she says. Tesoro lets out a shaky breath and pinches the bridge of her nose tight.

Oriana rolls her eyes and dusts the single crumb from Tesoro’s knee. 

“You look bad,” Oriana points out, and then gets up. She’s quickly finished both of her sandwiches, and scrunches the wrapping paper into a ball. “I’m gonna explore. See ya--don’t die.”

“Wait, Oriana, take this. I can't eat it.”

Tesoro doesn’t look up to watch her skate away. She’s feeling petty. For days she’s been feeling sour about a conversation from three days prior:

> “Sweetheart, where do you keep that bottle of Beefeater I bought you for your 13th? I’m going to bring some of it with us.”
> 
> “Don’t bother. It's gone. Also, I already threw out your flask.”

Tesoro clutches her head and mutters something about how unutterably terrible everything is. She doesn’t move for an hour.

The doors to the elevator open and close. Seconds later, Hisoka attaches badge number 44 to his crop top, surveys the room, and walks slowly forward with a heavy swagger. There aren’t many people here yet, to his disappointment. He looks to his right, where a young, boring-looking man is talking to five other boring-looking men. _Ten points, eight points, twelve points, ten points, eleven points… and seven points._ “How bleak,” he mutters, but continues this game while continuing to walk in a straight line across the center of the room. To his left, three new people: _six points, six points, goodness four points._

_Ten points, fifteen points, twenty-five points (oh boy), nineteen points, twenty points, four points... three points?_ Hisoka rolls his eyes, and then he bumps into someone. Rather, he kicks her.

He looks down at Tesoro’s back. Aside from being an eyesore in the middle of the room, she’s indetectable. Hisoka’s eyes scan her backside, starting at the top of her messy hair, down to her voluptuous ass pressed to the floor. Scratch that. Not an eyesore. Hisoka smiles mischievously. 

“Oh, gosh. How rude of me. Excuse me. I didn’t see you down there,” He says. “May I join you?” 

Tesoro turns her head just slightly, but doesn’t grace a response. She looks sour, Hisoka thinks. 

He takes her silence as an opportunity and sits directly in front of her, half crouching. He leans forward against his upright knee.

She doesn't react, so he doesn't stop.

Hisoka produces a deck of cards and then splays them across the floor in a grand arc.

Tesoro's head is pounding. _Why_ did she already destroy those sunglasses? She glares at the bright green diamond on Hisoka’s shirt with disdain and thinks about what it would be like if she were home and taking a nice golden bath. On that thought, when was the last time she masturbated? 

Tesoro’s brow furrows deeper.

“Won’t you pick a card?” he persists. Hisoka admires her eclectic taste in clothes. _Is that a crown?_

His voice. It’s nice. Tesoro finally returns eye contact, and suddenly, her demeanor shifts. She gives him a regal smile.

“Hmmmm. And who--” she finally says, plucks a card from the splay, “--are you?” Tesoro bats her eyelashes at him. Evidently she can just _ignore_ her debilitating symptoms of alcohol when given an opportunity to flirt. Who knew.

“Oh, I’m a friendly magician.”

“I see that. Do you have a name?”

“You may call me Hisoka.” 

“Charmed, Hisoka.” She looks at her card, and pretends she can read it with ease. “I am Tesoro.” It looks like it could have been a six or an eight of diamonds. Tesoro guesses it’s a six of diamonds.

His smile fades as he gathers the cards back into a cohesive deck. He doesn't care what her name is. “How nice, Tesoro. If you’ve memorized your card, place it face down on top of the deck, _very_ good. Now go ahead, cut the deck wherever you like.” 

Tesoro does so, and then by chance, her superhuman ears pick up the smooth roll of Oriana’s rollerskates connecting with the floor. Far away, across the expansive room and mixed into a growing crowd of 70 people and counting, Oriana is practicing her silly twirls and spins. 

Due to her experiencing withdrawal, she loses concentration on her Zetsu, and a single flame of blinding aura escapes her. Hisoka sees red. _Ninety, no. Ninety one._

And he can't help but groan.

He readies a sharp card between his index and middle fingers, but it’s over as soon as it began. Tesoro quickly shrugs into a natural state. 

“ _Ah,_ " Hisoka says, disappointedly. "Please don't hold yourself back on my account."

“Heavens,” she says, and flashes him a cute smile. “Excuse me.” She can see a thin veil of glistening, clear aura shrouding his body. There’s a higher concentration of it in his hands. She catches the moment he quickly reintroduces a card into his deck. On a side note, he has beautiful nails, Tesoro thinks. _Are those acrylics?_ They’re stunning.

“Well, go on.” Tesoro says. 

“So eager,” he says. “Very well. You are going to catch your card on the count of three. Isn’t that fun. Are you ready?” His expression remains casual, but any hint of a smile is gone from his eyes. 

She nods.

“Three.” She indeed catches her card, and without even moving a muscle because it flies right to her fingertips. 

Tesoro stares at the card: it’s definitely either her 6 or 8 of diamonds. Hisoka is similarly unmoving, but watching her. He admires the smooth pulsing quality of her aura. It shrouds her entire body in an even layer, and ripples with each breath she takes. It’s pretty. 

Tesoro squints at pink, sticky stuff around the playing card, and almost grimaces. _Disgusting,_ she thinks. Somewhat unrelatedly, she also thinks, hypothetically, if she were to eat him right now, he would probably taste pretty good. He seems strong enough. The pink sticky stuff is sort of a turn off, but she could look around that. She claps her hands together with great volume and says:

“Oh, that's so clever. I'm smitten.” She hands the card back to him and just as he grasps it, she sends a vibration--strong, and slightly audible--through it. “Will you not show me another?” The vibration shudders across the card, and travels across the pink sticky stuff up his arm. “Oh!” She says, not even trying to hide her excitement: it was unclear to her whether or not her waves would have any affect on the pink stuff, but it turns out they do. “What is _that_?” 

She immediately wants to do it again. She wants to watch the pretty waves travel across his body, and she wants to see him shudder--she thinks she can probably make him shudder.

Tesoro leans forward to get a better look at Hisoka's pink stuff, but Hisoka retracts it. 

“Aha," Hisoka chuckles. "Another? You're cute.” That little vibration would have been bone-shattering to a normal person, but it only made his arm tingle. Hisoka smiles a dark smile. He flexes his arm, and nonchalantly, he says, "That was my Bungee Gum. It possesses the qualities of both rubber and gum."

"Very nice." Tesoro smarms. She just wants him to bring it out again so that she may get to mess with it more.

He narrows his eyes at her, but doesn't grace another comment. Instead, he looks at the card Tesoro handed to him. It's permanently warped. He pinches it on either side and straightens it out, but the card snaps back into a wave shape once he releases it again. “So you want to see another trick?” 

“God, yes,” she says, in an drippy tone, “I love magic.” 

“Oh. _Me too_.” He reshuffles the deck. “Okay then. I'll do another one just for you, because you asked so nicely. Pick another card, Teh-soh-roh-chan.” And then he launches all 54 cards towards her face. 

One card slices a lock of hair from the top of her head, and another barely nicks her in the neck. Her eyes widen in surprise, and then in excitement, as she says:

“ _With pleasure_.” The unvoiced “p” reinforced with nen disperses a shockwave from her mouth. The wave deflects the rest of the cards, and then it hits Hisoka in the face. He blinks hard. His hair is blown back slightly.

In front of him when he opens his eyes is the king of diamonds, held between Tesoro’s thumb and middle finger. Her hand is close enough to feel the tickle of his breath as he chuckles. Hisoka eyes a thick drop of bright red blood cascading down her arm from a cut in her thumb, and he gulps hard.

He’s getting turned on. 

“ _What_ is that look on your face?” he says.

She had been right earlier: if she were to eat him right now he would taste pretty good. He’s strong, and strong people taste good. But, Tesoro thinks, she sees the lust in his eyes and thinks she could probably make him taste better than _that_ yet. 

The thought makes her heart flutter. 

"You really shouldn't look at me like that--I'm getting all excited," Hisoka says.

"That's cute." She winks at him, "Hisoka--it's Hisoka, right? Honestly that sounds like a _you_ problem."

Hisoka grins.

Tesoro admires his bold fashion choices. His makeup is fun too. What are those shapes on his face? She can’t tell. But she loves the colors, and she loves his femininity. His electric pink hair makes his eyes light up, and, speaking of which, his pretty yellow eyes remind her of Bernard’s.

Tesoro crushes the card in her fist and tosses it behind her shoulder with enough power to level someone, which it does. An unlucky passerby gets hit in the face and is immediately knocked out. Hisoka watches the man hit the ground, _fifteen._

“ _Ahng!_ ” She squeaks, surprised. The card wrecked her palm. She watches bright blood pool in the palm of her hand. It’s often very stimulating for her to witness gore like this--usually it takes a lot more gore, however. Right now she has to will herself to not bite down on her own palm.

Hisoka watches her intently. "Ooh. Ouch. Now that's the _second_ card you've ruined--I think you owe me a fresh deck."

As an alternative to biting herself, she lowers her hand and curls her fingers into an open fist. Unfortunately, it does not help her--she’s too impulsive. The wound pulses, burns, and stings; and if she presses on it, it's going to feel _awful._ It's too much of a temptation when the poor thing hasn’t come in _days_.

Tesoro squeezes her fist tight. She shudders, closes her eyes, and poorly suppresses a moan. 

"Oh-" Hisoka says, somewhat surprised, “ _Oh._ ” His eyes squint lewdly.

“Stiff cards,” she redirects. Her voice has dropped in pitch slightly. “Also, refrain from calling me Tesoro-chan from now on.” 

“It's a very fresh deck.” Hisoka replies, immediately. "And did I do that? How rude.” What would happen if he broke her arm? Would she moan louder? He wants to break her arm now to see if she'll moan for him louder.

“Pray tell, you did not come here just for friendly magic tricks. Did you?” Tesoro brings her thumb to her mouth and playfully sucks at a bloody spot, and then regards him. He's not hard to read: for fucks sake, he's been trying to provoke her from the get go. He obviously wants a fight. The thing is, she'll do it--and she will do it happily. It's a part of the game: if she plays, he'll like her more. And the more he likes her, the sweeter he'll be.

“Is it obvious?” 

“Yes." Tesoro tucks her chin feigning bashfulness, "I would love to see another trick though. Will you do another? For me?” She leans forward and puts her unblemished hand onto the floor, closing the distance between them. “It would make my day.”

"I'd love to." Hisoka purrs. "I'm so happy to have just met you, Tesoro. _You've_ made _my_ day."

"Shucks, I'm flattered." In an instant, she releases her aura. Because why wait? She'll fight him _right now_. Hisoka releases his almost synchronously. They jump away from each other, each smiling full and menacing smiles. Tesoro’s gold-capped back molar glints, and her eyes fill with hunger.

_Ahh. Ninety-four._ Hisoka whimpers delightedly. _She's_ so _over-powered._

People are starting to gather, and a large circle starts to form around them.

“Fight!” a stranger screams. “Fight! Fight!”

Unexpectedly, they’re interrupted by a prolonged vibration coming from Tesoro's pocket. 

“Ohh… What bad timing. Just a moment,” she says to Hisoka, who folds his arms in front of his chest and huffs. Even worse, though, is that once she sees who is calling, her aura extinguishes. 

“Excuse me, I'm very sorry--I have to delay this. I have to take this call.” Tesoro turns away from him.

The crowd around them dissipates disappointedly.

“That’s a shame,” he says, smiling perversely and shooting daggers at her backside. “No more? Are you sure? I’m having fun... so are you.” 

She gives him a stern, queenly smile over her shoulder, puts her hand over the receiver and replies, “Yes. I also had fun, thank you so very much 44. It has been an absolute pleasure.” Then she removes her hand and says, “Sweetie, something wrong?”

Hisoka grimaces bitterly at her. “Pleasure’s mine,” he mutters, clearly put off. He struts away slowly. Mad. But he’s confident that they'll fight soon. He won't even have to provoke her. How lucky.

The man she knocked out lies spread eagle on the ground at Hisoka’s feet, and next to the man is the remnant of his playing card. Hisoka flicks his wrist and sends a string of Bungee Gum to recover it. It’s sullied in blood and smashed into an impossibly compact ball. She absolutely trashed his King of Diamonds. Hisoka looks back at her to check her left hand, the one she used to crush it, and from across the room he can tell that it is similarly trashed.

His eyebrows go up, his eyes squint, and he says excitedly, “She is very charming.”

Meanwhile, Tesoro is being scolded over the phone:

“I’ve been texting you.” Oriana grumbles, “I can feel your bloodlust from across the room. Idiot.” And then Oriana hangs up furiously. 

Able to hear and locate her across any room, Tesoro looks in Oriana’s direction with a cheeky smile plastered on her face. She definitely doesn’t see Oriana flip her the bird, but she knows its happening. 

Tesoro opens her Razr, produces a magnifying glass from who knows where, and uses it to check her messages:

_12:05_ **_Princess_ **that man is my neighbor

_12:09_ **_Princess_ **upstairs neighbor ^o^

_12:09_ ** _Princess_** dude youre being loud

Oriana is on floor 151. Because of how refined his nen is, Hisoka is probably in the 200s, Tesoro thinks. She sends her responses:

_12:12_ **_Tesoro_ ** He is handsome, dude.

_12:12_ **_Tesoro_ ** But he is so very tall and his shoulders are so very broad. I am worried he may not fit in the freezer. ⫺:(

Tesoro smiles slightly. Oriana quickly replies.

_12:12_ **_Princess_ **-______- pity

“And yet you enjoy my cooking.” Tesoro muses and, puts her phone in her pocket. As soon as she does, it vibrates again.

_12:13_ **_Princess_ **dont ever say dudw again

_12:13_ **_Princess_** dude*

Tesoro turns the phone on silent and puts it into her pocket. Without the cute magician to distract her, she starts to feel another withdrawel headache coming on. 

“Who is that?” 

“Who? Oh, her? Her name is Tesoro. What do you think?”

“Have you met her before?”

“Definitely not.”

Gittarackur is pensive. He watches the strange woman shake droplets of blood from her gory hand like a wet dog shaking its coat. 

“Hm,” He says. Across the room, Tesoro fixes her crown, produces a chalice from who knows where, and attempts to drink from it. She tilts it all the way back to drain the cup, but there’s nothing in it. Not a drop. 

Now they both watch her angrily throw the chalice to the floor, crush it with a stomp and kick it to the far side of the room where it thwacks someone in the stomach and knocks the air out of them.

She exclaims, “Heavens, Bernard….” and then answers her phone again. “Can you just… Ori… Sweetness… My head is splitting in two.... Sweetheart… I'd eat your cheeks out.” The last line sounded earnest. Hisoka chuckles to himself.

“She is loud,” Gittarackur comments. “And an alcoholic.” 

Hisoka nods.

“Hm. I am curious about her background,” says Gittarackur. He takes out his phone and quickly snaps a picture of Tesoro to send to his brother. "Have you seen--"

They are both distracted by a certain light haired boy skateboarding straight past them. 

“Oh!” Gittarackur says, and his mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ shape. 

Gittarackur and Hisoka watch Killua skate directly to the center of the room. He does a kickflip, dismounts, downs a can of soda, and then shoves his fists into his pockets. Killua scans the room. Before he makes a complete turn around, a petite girl in rollerskates shreds to a stop just a couple feet from him. 

“Nice wheels--I’m Oriana,” she says with a charming smile.

“Thanks,” Killua shrugs, “Killua.” His eyes sparkle. “Do you wear those a lot?”

“Yeah.”

They share a cool kid moment.

Hisoka spots Tesoro leaning against the opposite wall. She’s looking at Killua and Oriana with as much attention as Illumi, but Tesoro, unlike Illumi, is clearly pissed off. There’s a thundercloud starting to form over her head. The small girl, Oriana, turns to look at Tesoro with her hands on her hips. 

“ _Sis_. Go away.” Tesoro and Oriana share a look for a moment, before Tesoro rolls her eyes and walks away with an unreadable expression. 

Hisoka, shocked, looks back and forth between the girls; and then looks back and forth between Illumi and Killua. What a strange coincidence, he thinks. 

“Ill-”

Illumi shoots daggers

“Oh? Sorry, that was a slip of the tongue, _Gi-tah-ri-kur-san_. It looks like you have something in common with her--what a good conversation starter.” 

“That is so rude.”

Way across the registration hall at the other corner of the room, Tesoro sits down against the wall with her knees against her chest. Her head is pounding, and her trashed hand is quickly healing itself. She groans “this sucks,” and lifts her healing palm to her lips and bites down hard. Her eyes close, and thick tears cascade down the sides of her cheeks. She forces herself to not moan too loudly.


	2. Lies (Thinner than Water)

Tesoro’s at-home workout consists of a handful of unremarkable chores. For weekly weight training, she rearranges her heavy furniture; cleans until everything, _everything_ shines; bakes bread (for Oriana); and gardens. She doesn’t like gardening, but she has to do it to accommodate an elaborate hobby of hers. 

Gardening at Tesoro’s house often involves digging large pits. She digs most of these pits in the forest beyond her humble castle; and then at some later point when the pits are spent, she covers them up, and builds flower terraces atop them. Strange and beautiful flowers grow over these pits because of the uncommon fertilizer Tesoro uses. It’s hard to say where all of the fertilizer comes from, but a good portion of it comes from her cardio routine. Tesoro _loves_ a good mouse chase, and she’ll chase anyone who looks like they want to be pursued by her (whatever that means). Her targets always die during the sport. She doesn’t know why. These leftovers produced by this macabre cardio routine, or ‘presents’ as Bernard might call them, end up pushing daisies in Tesoro’s flower garden. Come springtime, Tesoro looks forward to decorating her castle with these flowers.

The other important part of her cardio routine is her weekly ‘grocery run’ during which Tesoro literally runs to and from the nearest town 100 miles away for fresh produce. 

Anyways. Here she is now: jogging during the infamously challenging Hunter Exam. She’s avoiding the front line because there are too many plebs crowding around Satotz and because she can keep a better eye on her sister from here, but running as if she were on her way to pick up tomatoes for tonight’s fresh tomato sauce. So relaxed. Satotz isn’t running fast, yet. Tesoro assumes his strategy ensures that non-nen-users still have a chance. It’s so… _fair_. How… _polite_. 

Tesoro has been watching Killua, who is cruising just ahead with her rollerskating sister, Oriana. The two seem to be enjoying themselves.

“Oi--how old are you?” Killua asks.

“14. How old are you?”

“ _Eh_?” Killua stammers, “Are you really fourteen?! You’re so short--I’m like already taller than you, and I’m going to be even taller in no time, just watch.” He laughs, and checks her reaction with a sidelong glance. To his relief, she’s not glaring at him. Instead she’s smirking as though she holds some awesome and unattainable skill over him. He feels excited. “I’m 12,” he answers.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” she smarms. “What I don’t have in height, I make up for in other things. I’m _really_ strong.” She teases him and sticks her tongue out, and then loses her footing. Oriana sticks one of her legs out and waves her arms around to catch her balance, narrowly averting eating shit. 

They both laugh. 

"Bullshit."

"No I'm _serious_."

A different kind of relationship, but oddly related, is about to start just behind them: Gittarackur has decided to make first his move on Tesoro. It's about to go poorly. He already decided to come off strong because it is the fastest and most direct way to get an insightful reaction from Tesoro, who he already sees as a potential concern. Also, as Hisoka already put it, Illumi is tactless when it comes to making friends. He catches up to Tesoro, and they supervise their respective siblings from afar in silence. 

“The girl in rollerskates is your younger sister?” Gittarackur asks unemotively. It sounds like he’s just stating a fact. 

She doesn’t grace a response, but her face pinches when she looks at him. _How unfortunate it must be,_ she thinks, _to look like a sun bleached grape_. Gittarackur fills in the silence himself:

“It seems like a liability to take this test with a family member. Are you here because you are concerned she will need help?” What a hypocrite.

Tesoro gawks at him at him as if he were a humblebragging trust fund baby explaining to her how she should be investing her money. “Why does no one exchange pleasantries here?” she gripes. “Nice to meet you, my name is Tesoro. And you are?” 

“Oh. I am Gittarackur.” Gittarackur smiles a hollow but cheeky smile. So creepy. So imposing.

“Hi, honey. And how are you today?” Tesoro chastises. “Are you unwell?” 

“I am fine,” he deadpans. "How are you." Gittarackur's head twitches back and forth. 

"Just fine." Tesoro tents her hands over her eyes and pinches her temples with her middle finger and thumb.

They are quiet for a while. After a couple of miles have passed underfoot, he notices her shoulders have hunched. There is green tinge to her complexion, which Gittarackur thinks is unfortunately exacerbated by her already olive skin. 

Tesoro moues at him. He’s killing her _vibe_. “You look bad,” she taunts. What terrible timing. 

“As I said, I am fine.” Gittarackur smiles a fake smile at her. She’s the one who looks bad, Gittarackur thinks. He reconsiders gathering intel and contemplates, instead, getting this over with right now; but, he has to remind himself, he hasn't been hired to do this. And why kill if he isn't getting paid. “If you are not here for your sister, what is your reason for obtaining a Hunter License?” he redirects.

“Oh, I don't know. I've been wanting one. It would be useful. Why do you want one?”

“I need one for a job,” he replies.

This is going to go nowhere, Tesoro thinks. They both have evasive conversational styles. _Hm._

Silence resumes. The only noises between them are of Tesoro’s running footsteps--and only hers--because, Tesoro notes with some giddiness, Gittarackur’s footsteps are almost imperceptible. If it were anyone else--someone with average hearing and good eyesight--they'd miss the pitter patter of the balls of his feet colliding with the ground. It's so soft it almost hurts her ears, but it has a detectable seismic signature she can feel through the soles of her shoes. She widens the volume discrepancy between hers and Gittarackur’s steps by slapping her feet against the ground with unnecessary flare. Gittarackur doesn’t react. Gittaracker does, however, get annoyed. Her feet smack against the floor harder and harder, until he thinks he feels a small tremor underfoot.

“This would not be an ideal location to start an earthquake,” he criticizes.

“Yes, I agree.” 

Up ahead, Oriana turns her head. She has noticed the loud and smothering quality of her sister’s presence behind her, and makes eye contact with Tesoro for a moment. However, she is distracted. Killua started giving her an animated recap of his adventure to the registration room, and it’s cute. It makes Oriana laugh, and it also draws Gittarackur's attention away from Tesoro. Gittarackur stares at Oriana and begins memorizing the flippant and inefficient way she pushes herself off with her skates. 

Then, like magic, Tesoro’s footsteps cease abruptly. To Gittarackur's bewilderment, Tesoro has vanished from his side. 

“Hm?” He grimaces. And then, Gittarackur scowls and looks around. “This is not expected.” 

A familiar voice pops up behind him. “That is so odd. She completely disappeared,” Hisoka comes in hot from Gittarackur’s right side. Though, she didn’t simply ‘disappear’: Hisoka watched Tesoro fall through a strange, sudden, and transient hole in the floor, and he even saw the look of wrath and indignation on her face when she smacked her chin on the edge of said strange hole. It was _so_ exciting. “I don’t really understand it fully yet, but I don’t think she did it on purpose.” 

“Did you see what happened?” 

“No--I’m afraid I didn't. I was distracted. Do you have any idea what you looked like running side by side?” Hisoka’s eyes roll back, and he shudders. “You both have a certain spark about you. I can’t describe it. Totally different styles, but in spite of that you still made an attractive pair. Well--Okay. She was cute. You look great as always, but I don't know. Maybe it's because you were unfairly juxtaposed with herfigure, but this getup makes your butt look flat--” 

Gittaracker body slams Hisoka from the side, but before he makes contact, Hisoka leapfrogs over his back. They switch places side by side, and continue running as though nothing had just happened. 

“Somehow I do not trust you are being genuine with me.” 

“That hurts my feelings,” Hisoka frowns. But it's a farce: he loves Illumi's quickness, and his frown quickly turns into a roguish grin. “Aren’t you wondering about where she went?” 

Gittarackur eyes Hisoka with a blank look. “No. She is gone." Gittarackur directs his attention to Killua and Oriana once more. "I am wondering about how she did it.” 

Up ahead, Killua asks Oriana, “What’s up?” He turns his head to make eye contact with her because she has fallen a couple of feet behind. Killua barely misses Gittarackur’s scrutinizing gaze.

“S’nothing. There was just a bug buzzing around me." She picks up her speed, and they both skate off, leaving Hisoka and Gittarackur behind.

“A bug is not the word I would use,” Gittarackur comments. 

30 kilometers behind them now, Tesoro is fuming. Her aura erupts into a blinding column of fire and she walks forward with zero regard for the foundation of the tunnel: her heavy footsteps shake the registration hall from floor to ceiling, and dust and tiny pieces of concrete cascade around her. 

And then without warning, Tesoro starts to laugh. 

“Ha!” Tesoro barks. She breaks into hysterics and has to lean over with her hands on her knees. "This is so, so good. Spectacular work, Ori." Once she gets out all of her giggles, she wipes her teary eyes, and sighs. The column of firey aura has reduced to a small candle flame. "I'm so impressed."

"Ah. Okay. Very well." Tesoro looks ahead and licks her lips. She steps hard, cracks the floor, and a rift propogates outwards towards the side walls. The chamber shudders and groans. Tesoro plants her left foot behind her, and sucks in a fresh breath of air. When she lets it out, she centers herself. The concrete beneath her foot spiderwebs as she pushes off, and Tesoro breaks into a stupidly fast sprint--no holds barred. The wind picks up and the tunnel trembles around her. 

* * *

Somewhere along the way, Oriana and Killua are introduced to another kid of similar age, Gon. This new kid and Killua become friendly and competitive with one another right off the bat, and they get along so effortlessly and so abruptly that Oriana is absolutely blindsided. She keeps up with their pace pretty well, but since the boys are in their own world of competition and energy, she resolves to make it out of the tunnel on her own time. 

True to her word though, Oriana is pretty damn strong. She exits the underground just after Gon and Killua, coming in third place. 

Gon and Killua fight over who should treat who to a meal, and rope Oriana into the rankings. Since she came in third place, and since Gon and Killua tied, Killua thinks she should treat; but Oriana wasn’t a part of the initial bet, so Gon decides he’s going to treat. 

“And then Killua will pay, and then Oriana,” Gon states. He’s standing tall with his arms akimbo and his chin up, and he shoots her a big, pure smile. “Only if you wanna.” Oriana feels her cheeks redden. 

“I’m down, yeah--”

“Cool!” 

Several minutes pass outside the mouth of the tunnel. Gon and Killua are loud and excited and jumping and running and doing kickflips, and then there’s Oriana, who is mindlessly playing with her hair and obsessively watching the mouth of the tunnel. She observes with baited breath as each successive exiting examinee turns out _not_ to be the diabolical queen that Oriana shafted this afternoon. The words ‘ _we’re a team’_ echo around in Oriana's head, and it makes her feels shame. One by one, strangers exit the tunnel. Every time it turns out not to be Tesoro, Oriana feels her anxiety rise higher and higher until it’s stuck in her throat and she feels like she can’t breathe. She hides behind her friends to calm down. Killua notices, and he joins her. Leorio, Kurapika, and Gon are getting animated about something he isn’t a part of, anyways.

“What’s up?” He punches her shoulder lightly.

“S’nothing,” she denies.

“Is it another bug?” 

Oriana chokes on her words, but she nods. 

“Thought so,” he affirms while directing a confident thumbs-up towards himself. “We can take on any bug.” He’s not lying.

It seems like such a small gesture, but it isn’t. She notices a sweet feeling starting to mingle with her anxiety, and she doesn’t know what to do about it. This cute friendship thing is new territory for her, and Oriana doesn’t understand what it means when people are nice to her yet not expecting favors in return. Her mind flies to the conclusion that he’s flirting, but she thinks it’s strange considering their 2 year age gap. She’s _so much_ older than him. Also she has little experience communicating what she’s about to communicate.

“Uh… Killua?”

“Hm?”

“Err--I don’t want this to come off the wrong way,” _‘cause you’re cool and I like you_ , “but I like girls.”

“Eh?” Killua furrows his brow, and punches his fist into Oriana’s shoulder again. “Baka. I wasn’t--geez, trying to be like _that_. You know. Is that why you’re saying this?” He rubs his chin, “You like girls?”

“Yeah,” she affirms, feeling like a load has been lifted from her shoulders but simultaneously sort of confused by his response. Is it supportive? What is it? 

“That’s cool, I guess,” he shrugs and puts his hands in his pocket. “So. I mean. How did you… _know_?” He asks. His voice is quiet.

“I don’t know.” Oriana answers. “I just, like, realized it a while ago. I only ever have crushes on girls.” 

“Oh,” he nods. “That’s cool.”

Oriana recognizes something in his eyes, and she smiles warmly at him. 

“Yeah, it’s cool,” she agrees. 

She looks beyond Killua at the mouth of the tunnel, and then surveys those who have already made it. There’s still no sign of Tesoro anywhere. Her fists clench, and then unclench. Oriana’s mind starts to race with the possibilities of what might have gone wrong: maybe Tesoro isn’t even _in_ the tunnel; or perhaps Tesoro slowed down or, fuck, _passed out_ because she’s suffering from acute and debilitating alcohol withdrawal (which Oriana blames herself for). 

Scratch that. Damn her. She probably found a cocktail bar down there and is hitting on the bartender. That bitch. Oriana rolls her eyes. After all this character building, it would be a lame, poorly-timed, disappointing joke if Tesoro were fazed by a stupid jogging exercise, of all things--especially with her _stupid_ cardio routines. Oriana stands by her assessment that Tesoro is a monster, and somehow finds closure in that.

The magician from Heaven’s Arena exits the tunnel. He captures Oriana’s attention with a knowing smile, and Oriana takes this as her cue to reassimilate into her growing group of friends and pretend like she’s forgotten about her sister, but she feels Hisoka’s eyes burning holes into the back of her head. _Any moment now,_ she thinks, while whistling and avoiding looking anywhere other Gon’s hair.

Any moment now.

Just as Satotz privately decides he’s going to shut the gate, a loud boom emanates from the depths of the tunnel. Oriana’s ears perk knowingly. She has the urge to put her hand over her face and look away. There’s another boom, somewhat closer. The examinees become quiet.

Wind howls out of the mouth of the tunnel. A lamp fixture hanging at the top of the stairs starts to rock back and forth, and then it gets whacked out of its post by a rogue, air-borne woman. Tesoro soars with awesome speed out of the dark tunnel, and lands gracefully on her feet about four meters from the entrance. She stands tall and cocks her weight to her left hip, paying no regard to anything but her golden, chipped nail polish. She doesn’t even have that sickly tinge to her anymore--as though running a hundred kilometers actually improved her demeanor. Oriana suddenly wishes she could have sent her _further_ away. 

As if reading Oriana’s mind, Tesoro’s eyes flicker to hers. They share a moment of intense eye contact, and Oriana feels her heart rate speed up dramatically. She knows this look pretty well. Oriana gulps hard. She wants to hide behind her friends again, but she can’t move her feet.

“Waah. Who _is_ that?” Leorio stammers.

“Me? I am Tesoro.”

"Yeow!" Leorio jumps three feet into the air in surprise. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from a loud fairy on his shoulder, yet Tesoro still stands a stone's throw away.

“Close, but no. It's Tesoro. Can someone make me a nametag?”

But this interaction is cut short: Satotz is officially done waiting. The first phase of the Hunter Exam carries on, and no one will be getting a nametag. Oriana quickly hurries off with her new friends, and Tesoro is cast aside yet again. 

“ _Teenagers_ ,” Tesoro groans. And then, she ignores the predicament. It’s whatever. Thinner than water, thicker than blood. That’s what they say. She should be grateful right now anyways: it turns out Oriana did her a huge favor back there. Though short-lived, her headache disappeared while she was catching up to the group. This is Tesoro’s first time going cold-turkey in the ten years she’s been drinking heavily, so it’s a learning experience. But, Tesoro now knows with some confidence that sprinting is an excellent distraction from this booze cruise shipwreck she’s sinking in. Speaking of the shipwreck, her head is killing her, and it doesn’t help now to be outside and surrounded by bright, white fog. Tesoro covers her eyes, and squeezes her temple with her thumb and forefinger. Then she tries to pick up her pace, but it’s no use. This bog is too misty and too swampy to safely break into another sprint. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” she hunches against a tree and presses her forehead to the bark. Her hands are shaky and she wants to puke; so she tries, and fails. The bitter taste of bile coats the back of her throat and it makes her spit. She tries puking again, this time bracing herself with her hands on her knees and leaning against the tree. Dear god. It's terrible. She feels like shit. She knocks her forhead against the bark of the tree and the impact sends out a small vibration.

She observes: there are four people lingering in the fog around her. This isn't a new development, however: they've been following her for at least 20 kilometers. Now that she's stopped and desperately trying to vomit, they're finally zeroing in on her.

Tesoro groans, " _I wish I was home._ "

“Hey cutie--” someone heckles from behind. Tesoro pays no mind and continues dry heaving. She waves weakly at them to signal they should go away. But they don't. Someone has the audacity to clear their throat. The nerve. Tesoro wipes the side of her mouth and pirouettes to face the source of the sound. She is confronted by three examinees. All three are of similar physical statures, completely oblivious to nen, and have no interesting or defining characteristics because they’re all about to die.

“Didn’t think I’d see any fine ass during this exam. You must be real special. Wanna team up? Ya probably could use our help.” 

She doesn’t think--her head is searing--she just lunges in between the three of them and seizes the speaking man’s neck while the other two jump away from her in surprise. She yanks the sucker up above her head so that his feet dangle and kick around. 

“What was it you wanted again?” She asks, but the quality of her voice has changed. The man feels like he’s just stuck his head into a concert hall pipe organ and the volume has been cranked to 11. A cacophony of beautiful and terrible sounds ricochet between his ears and he screams.

“What the shit--” cries one of the witnesses. 

“Do not run,” Tesoro makes eye contact with them as she says this, and flashes them a smile. So, the accomplices do not run.

It took but one demand, and the human dangling from her hand has already been stripped of his will and reduced to a fucked ornament. His glaucous eyes roll, and his head vibrates; still reeling from the sonic barrage. Tesoro's nen-reinforced voice has a rich timbre; however, too rich for some people's taste. Its weighted nuance has the power to blanket and snuff out people's thoughts should they submit; meaning that, for a moment, if Tesoro looks someone in the eye and makes a clear demand, then she can exert temporary control over them. It's her little god-flex.

“So sorry, I don't think you heard me earlier. _What was it you wanted?_ ” She narrows her eyes at him.

He’s probably a minute from death, but he’s taking too long to respond so she jostles him up and down. His head snaps backwards and forwards.

“I want--” he chokes out, “I wanted you.”

“Ah--is that so?” she shudders, as if he’s just complimented her performance in bed. “That's music to my ears, honey. And how did you want me?” She stares into his eyes like they contain her most cherished dreams. 

He sputters. Tesoro rolls her eyes. He is so average, she thinks. No amount of lust or love can fix that, and it's so much worse that he fell for her without getting to know her at all. So presumptuous of him. He is a commoner. He is trash.

“On my--” he starts to answer, but before he finishes his sentence Tesoro impales her other hand into his throat. Her fingernails penetrate his larynx and red spurts across her arm and her face. When she lets him fall, he hits the ground like a sack of rocks. 

“Bummer. You aren't my type." Tesoro watches him twitch and bleed out on the ground with disinterest. Her eyes widen at a particularly gory spurt of blood fountaining from the hole in his neck. It's disgusting, and distracting. She can't keep her eyes from it in anticipation of another spurt. As she's losing herself while gazing into the disgusting puncture wound, an idea occurs to Tesoro. She licks her lips. "Oh. That is gross _._ "

Her ears perk to the sound of leaves crunching under hurried footsteps. Tesoro whips around and, as she watches the two no-names flounder about on the ground, she calls them fools. She takes two running steps, bears both feet down upon the ground, and then launches herself three meters into the air. When she gets to the highest point along her trajectory, she shifts into a strong downwards kick. Tesoro lands with groundbreaking force focused in the heels of her feet, and a surface wave propogates from her point of impact with the ground. It trips both of them as it travels under them. She extracts herself from the wet, swampy ground and dances to where they lie. They’re hopelessly splayed at the base of a spooky, misty tree. Fool 2 is sobbing and fool 1 is pissing himself, and it's such a cliche she could cry. She immediately kills number 2 with a devastating kick to the head that smashes his skull and breaks his neck.

“I have to thank you all. My headache is a little better.” 

Number 1 already seems to have lost consciousness from shock. She leans down and checks for breath and a heartbeat, of which there is neither. Funny, she thinks. This fool died too, and she didn’t even touch him. It must have been a sudden and catastrophic heart attack. Tesoro admires the massacre. There’s blood spattered on her face and arm, and plenty coats her hand. She brings her wrist to her mouth, and drags her tongue up her inner wrist to the scoop of her palm, where the most blood has accumulated. It tastes like what you expect: irony and 'red', and it has an undesirable slick texture. She twists her face delight, despite feeling more or less neutral towards it. _Hm_.

Her head whips around to confront the initial kill of the day, and her eyes widen again. Even with her shitty vision, he still looks like a disgusting geyser. Tesoro licks her lips and shakes her head. She saunters back to him with pep in her step, and kneels next to his head. Her eyes defocus at all the gore while a hand cups underneath the brutal wound in the stranger’s neck. Too bad she already trashed the only chalice she brought--it would have been a great prop right now. Maybe she can ask Oriana to fetch more later.

Tesoro leans in, feigning eagerness. She brings her hand to her lips, and sips tentatively. It isn’t terrible, she thinks. And then, Tesoro grins maniacally. She can do this. She can _be_ that crazy bitch.

She drinks what's left in her palm. Blood coats her throat. It feels strange, and mostly bad, but somewhat tolerable, and warm, and disgusting. She starts to suckle from the wound while her hands white knuckle the collar of the dead man’s shirt and the tuft of brown hair atop his head. The rate that the wound bleeds is slower than her intake, so she bites around it and sucks hard for better effect. It's flavor leaves much to be desired. After a few gulps, she's a little used to it, but she'd still rather not be drinking blood. But that doesn't matter. She keeps sucking until she absolutely can’t--until it makes her gag, or something like that. She gasps for air in between long drags, and coughs when she accidentally swallows it down the wrong hatch. 

When she chokes on it, she decides she's done enough.

Tesoro jumps high and far away from the body, as if coming to the sudden realization that she's vamping out, and lands high up in a tree. She lets out a mouthful of air, and stares at the blood on her hands while pretending to be shocked with herself.

“Oh, sweet heavens, you sick fuck.” Tesoro isn’t a fucking vampire. She isn’t even into vore. She only ever eats people once they’re already prepped and butchered, and she’s never sipped any fucking blood from any victim’s fucking neck, but she can set aside personal preferences to put on a fun show. 

“All I wanted was _wine_ ,” the disappointment is clear in her tone, but she chuckles despite this. “Damn that girl. Ah but now my headache is _gone_ ,” she whistles, then, she hops out of the tree. When she touches the earth, she sends a small vibration out to check her surroundings. _Good,_ she thinks, _he’s still there_. Tesoro produces a wimpy cloth tissue from some hidden pocket, and ineffectively dabs at the edge of her lips. 

She is starting to have fun.

* * *

When Tesoro finishes the first phase, she’s among the first. She leans casually against the trunk of the shadiest tree she can find. Her headache is back (it came back once she cannonballed into an electrified pond to rinse off), but it’s nowhere near as excruciating as it once was. Now it's like a weak, fading memory--must have been all the excitement. And maybe the blood. _No_. It wasn't the blood. She feels fine because she's not as much of an addict as anyone's pegged her to be--and that's that. The blood was a show. _The blood was a show_.

She’s gained another shadow, too. Right now, the new one rests upon a branch high above her head, and she wouldn’t want to abandon it. She can’t figure out where the first one went, but she expects he’s nearby and watching, as he has been since the exam kicked off.

She picks up a leaf, and tears it to pieces. An unconscious man propped several trees away from her starts to stir, and a gaggle starts to form around him. Part of the gaggle is Oriana, whom Tesoro identifies by voice. They converse amongst themselves. Tesoro’s ears perk when her name is tossed around in the conversation. She looks their way again while she shreds another leaf with her deft fingers. Tesoro can’t be sure, but she thinks they’re all looking at her. She hopes she remembered to rinse her mouth out as she smiles cheekily and waves. 

“So, that’s her?” Killua asks.

“I’ve never seen a woman like that in my _life--_ ” Leorio ogles. “I just can’t believe it. _She’s_ a psycho murderer?”

Oriana winces, and shoots Leorio an exasperated glare.

Oblivious to everyone and everything, Tesoro shreds another leaf and lets its pieces flutter to the ground. The shade is nice, she thinks, but she _could_ make it darker. Her eyes flicker to the foliage above her, and she takes inventory of the quality of leaves still comprising the crown. It's winter, so there should be more dead leaves than this, but she shrugs. She'll just have to get the fresh ones off, too. Her palm collides with the bark of the tree, and she sends a shockwave up the trunk, along the branches, and all the way to the leaves at the end. They shake violently, and many immediately break off. Soon, a thousand dainty leaves are cascading serenely around her and they fall near the base of the trunk in a messy array.

Tesoro taps her chin. She wanted the leaves to form a cohesive pile on their own, and she didn't want to work hard for this. So, she stomps hard and crosses her fingers. Leaves spring into the air again, and Tesoro quickly ducks beneath them. She lies on the grass with her arms above her head. Before she’s blanketed in a soft layer of autumnal greens and browns, she smiles up through the branches at Hisoka, her second shadow. He waves at her, cheery. He's kicking his legs back and forth like a giddy child.

“Gon, no!” Oriana restrains him.

“Aw that looks so fun--” he pouts, wriggling to get out of Oriana’s hold.

Killua watches, puzzled. He wonders why _anyone_ would want to get near that woman. Even if Oriana hadn’t warned them all, she’s got ‘freakshow’ written all over her. He furrows his brow at Gon.

“Are you crazy?” Killua says. 

“Let me go!” Gon whines and kicks, “Come on!”

“Gon, it would probably be wise to stay clear of that woman. Surely we can make our own leaf pile,” Kurapika suggests. 

“Nngh,” Gon continues to struggle.

“Yeah, make your own pile--” Oriana ducks as Gon tries to elbow her in the face. “I already told you a billion times, she’s like psychotic. Don’t engage.”

A loud _whoosh_ goes overhead. To Oriana’s horror, hundreds of leaves start to rain down from above, and her sister’s pile is nowhere in sight--nor is her sister. She releases Gon and crouches defensively, keeping a special eye out for Killua. 

“Ori, light of my life, dearest darling, baby beloved,” Tesoro mutters from behind her, “can I have a quick word with you?”

Out of the corner of Oriana’s eye, she sees Killua skid to a stop already a safe distance away. Gon is staring at Tesoro wide-eyed, Kurapika has drawn their sticks, and Leorio is gawking at Tesoro with his mouth hanging wide open. Oriana turns slowly. She’s not panicking anymore, because she’s ready to get this over with and she's not about to let her friends get hurt. She raises her fists and tucks her chin. Slowly she turns around. When she sees her sisters face up close, however, she’s confused. Tesoro looks fucking helpless. 

“Goodness sweetheart," Tesoro looks as though she may cry, "I just want a word." She is dripping wet yet her hair is frayed out in fifty directions. Her signature gold headband hangs dejectedly around her neck.

“Whoa, what _happened_ to you?” Oriana lowers her fists. She accompanies her sister to another shady tree. From behind, she hears Killua say incredulously “ _Ori??”_ , and a groan that sounds like it belongs to Leorio.

“Ori, I am sorry,” Tesoro starts. 

_What._ “Eh?” 

“I have been an absolute mess since we started this game, and I want to be over it, but I cannot stop this headache--” which is a lie: it's already stopping. Her headache is manageable. Tesoro rubs her temples. “This cannot go on. I feel like I am going crazy,” which is less of a lie than Tesoro believes it to be.

Oriana crosses her arms at Tesoro. “What happened.” 

“A man was bleeding from his neck, and--” Tesoro drops her hand from her face and scrunches her nose. “Yuck. It is so gross. I am disgusted. I drank it. There was something sensational about it, and I could not resist. Ugh. What if it was sick blood--what if I just drank a bunch of sick blood? Heavens how unsavory.” 

Oriana is shocked and disgusted, and it shows in her expression and inability to find words.

“Ori--Ori _I know_ ,” Tesoro whines. “I think. I need--” _wine_ , “I do not know--a pick me up.” Tesoro bites her tongue. “Can you help me out?”

“I already told you I’m not getting you anything. _Jeez_. Did _you_ kill him?” 

Tesoro gives Oriana puppy eyes. “Honey please reconsider--”

“No! I said no! Did you _kill_ him?”

“Yes,” Tesoro raises her eyebrows. That’s by far the least alarming detail in her story, she thinks. “Duh.”

“Did you kill anyone else?”

“Why is this pertinent?” she complains. “They had it coming. They were weak and dumb,” she adds, as if that justifies the deaths to Oriana. “ _How_ are you not concerned about the blood?”

“You think _everyone_ is dumb.” 

“I don't see what this has to do with anything,” she quips. “God.”

Oriana facepalms. “So,” Oriana starts. “Er… I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve got a lot of fucked up habits, and I don’t want to support you because it's really gross, and bad, but somehow you’re still important to me.” Finding her confidence, Oriana looks straight into Tesoro’s eyes, “I’m proud of you for quitting, it’s probably really hard for you. It _looks_ really hard on you. You look like garbage.” 

Tesoro scrunches her nose again and shrugs. She _did_ just dunk herself into an electrified pond to rinse upwards of a liter of blood off of her, and her hair _is_ still sticking out like a fucking osprey nest. Whatever. This is probably more convincing if she looks worse for wear. 

“But I think you’ll feel better soon. You’re really strong--you’re the strongest person I know.” And then, to Tesoro’s surprise, Oriana pulls her into a bear hug so tight that Tesoro’s arms are cemented to her sides. Tesoro wriggles a little bit to get her arms free.

“Ori--”

“Wait,” Oriana takes a deep breath. When she lets it out, she releases her sister. Then she continues, “This whole time, I’ve been all worried--I thought that you were furious with me for sending you back to the registration hall, and I thought that you were going to be pissed that I ditched you and hung out with other people when I said earlier that we’d be a team. And after what you’ve just told me, I should be disgusted with you right now, but I don't know--I’m not. It actually doesn’t seem super shocking to me at all that you would drink someone’s blood--like maybe you thought it could replace drinking? I don't know, you're so strange. And I'm sure you won't do it again because you seem really disgusted, but could you still tone down the murdering?”

“What? We _are_ a team,” Tesoro stares incredulously. This is going much better than Tesoro could have ever imagined. Oriana's performance is impressing the shit out of her. It's like she _knows_ what Tesoro wants her to do. _Hm._ Is it because her new friends are nearby, and she's trying to 'make a good impression'? _Or not_ _!_ Maybe the tables are turned, and Oriana is _also_ trying to play Tesoro! Tesoro is thrilled. She leans against the trunk of the tree behind her, and tries to calm down, but she’s bursting with misplaced pride. “Also, just so we're clear, don't pull that stunt again because I would rather you just tell me to go away--I can take it, don't worry--but what you did in the tunnel was so cool. I should be mad, but I'm not. It was _hysterical_.” 

The response is touchimg to Oriana, who is going through a wide range of feelings today regarding her sister: does she hate Tesoro? does she love Tesoro? does she need to abandon Tesoro and start anew with reasonable people? etc. She feels herself blush and tears brim her eyes. She looks down and takes a deep breath. Tesoro isn’t so bad, she thinks, _not to her_. Oriana however isn’t aware that Tesoro is lying out of her ass right now. Oriana also isn’t aware that it would have been wiser to stay quiet about what she did in the tunnel, but whatever.

Oriana bites her lip, “What about the murdering?”

“I don't know what you're getting at.”

“The murdering. Can you tone it down?”

“Why?”

“Please.”

“I don't understand--please tell me why.”

Oriana furrows her brow. “Be serious _._ ”

Tesoro furrows her brow harder, “I am serious.” She combs a hand through her hair and tries to tame it a little bit, “Can you just… there are so many good reds just waiting on my countertop--if you just make a tiny window in my kitchen, then I can just reach through and grab a nice bottle.”

“What? No--fuck no, I already told you no. I’m not enabling this.”

“You would not be, you would be helping me-- _please_ sweetness. It would mean the world--”

“No!” Oriana scratches the back of her head and looks back to her friends. “What is _with_ you right now?” They have reconvened into a little group again, and are huddling close together. Oriana wants to be included. 

She looks back to Tesoro, who has closed her eyes and has started massaging her head, and Oriana sighs in defeat because there is absolutely nothing she can do except abandon Tesoro again. Before she heads back to her cute friend group, Oriana remembers something. 

“Oh yeah,” she says, and produces Tesoro’s flask from her pocket. “This is empty, but I brought it for you,” she hands it to Tesoro, who looks at it solemnly. “Do whatever you want with it. I just thought you should have it.”

“This is cruel. My head is killing me.” 

“Let it,” Oriana snaps. Then, she returns to her friends. 

“So mean.”

Tesoro stares at the flask for a moment, and then stashes it in her pocket for safe keeping. Once Oriana is out of earshot, she finally peers up at that leaf-stripped tree. Her second shadow is still up there, now hiding in plain sight. He's kicking his legs around while twirling a leaf in his hand. The bastard seems pleased.

“44.” She says, squinting up him and blocking the sun from her eyes with her hand, “You have gum under your left shoe.” Which, maybe he does, but he probably doesn’t. She can’t see. 

“ _Liar_ ,” he smiles after checking. He swings his legs back and forth, and leans forward to look down at her. 

“Do _you_ have anything I can drink?”

“I’m afraid not. You poor thing.” 

“Do you know _anyone_ with any spirits?”

“Sorry, dear. I don’t," he whistles.

“Bummer.” Tesoro frowns.

“Mhm.” Hisoka nods. “So she really _is_ your sister. I wasn’t sure. But that was touching. It almost felt inappropriate to watch. That hug she gave you was so heartfelt.” He tucks his chin. “I was wondering, do you consider taking this test together bonding time?” Tesoro wonders if he’s already seen through her. He seems more intuitive about interpersonal relationships than the other one.

Tesoro walks over to the base of his tree, “I do not understand what you mean by ‘bonding time’. We are already well acquainted.” 

“I mean... is _this,_ ” he gestures around, “how you like to spend time with each other?” 

Tesoro frowns, “Not really." She winces when she accidentally glances at the sun just over his left shoulder. "Is this how _you_ like to spend _your_ time?” She tents her hand over her eyes, and looks away from him. He is blinding.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not having a little fun.”

It doesn’t seem like he’s having that much fun right now, Tesoro thinks. He’s just been sitting up in that tree kicking his legs around. He’s still just kicking his legs around.

“You did mention that earlier.” Tesoro affirms. “Okay. So. You have been up there for a while now, watching me, I gather. Was there something you wanted? Or did you just want to hang out? I would be alright with that. We should hang out.” 

“Actually, I was hoping to play another game,” he deliberates. “What do you think?”

She pretends to consider it for a moment, before she answers: “Of course, let's play another game.” Tesoro shifts her weight to her other hip. “I had fun last time, you were right.” 

He jumps down from the tree, and leans against the trunk. She’s barely shorter than him, so they basically see eye to eye. 

“I’m thrilled,” Hisoka enunciates. He gives her a once over and folds his arms in front of his chest, before cracking that blinding jester smile.

“What's this game you want to play?”

“There’s that eagerness again, so charming,” he glances at her parted lips, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Okay. For this game, instead of playing cards, I’m going to tell you about yourself. If I’m accurate enough for your taste, then I want a fight--a real, full, fair fight. Just you and me. No interruptions. That’s it. And, if I’m wrong, I’ll let you pick your prize.”

“If you are accurate...” Tesoro considers. She shifts her weight to her other hip, and twirls a stray strand of dark hair with her fingers. “Okay. I am intrigued. Your prize is fine with me," which is more or less true, even though she wonders if she could actually beat him: his nen seems to have been thoughtfully crafted for the sole purpose of fighting, and he has a definite physical advantage over her. Whatever though, she's going to have to fight him one way or another because he's clearly into that. “As for what I get if you lose…” 

Tesoro knows what she wants, but she taps her pouty lips and admires his devastatingly handsome face again. She remembers the lustful look he gave her when she sliced her hand open on his diamond king, and a warm, swirly feeling starts to flutter about in her chest. His cute mouth is upturned in a sultry smirk, and his golden eyes regard her with curiosity. She brings her thumb to her mouth and presses her lips to the spot where his card stuck her. It's healed, but she could bite it open again. She wonders if she should, but she doesn't have to. He does it again without needing further suggestions: his expression goes lewd. _That's it_. Hisoka leans away from the tree and stands tall, a little closer to her now. 

She licks her lips. 

He groans. “ _Teh-soh-roh_ , you’re making that face again,” he whines. His body goes slack, and he braces himself against the tree trunk again. “Ahh. Dear--you _really_ shouldn’t look at me like that unless you want to start something--”

“Alright, sweetheart. I have decided. If you lose, then I'm going to treat you to your favorite meal at my house.” And then, after whatever time it takes to make sure he’s in love with her--even if it takes months--she’ll kill him, and eat his pretty ass. He is going to be so sweet. Solid plan. “Do you accept?” She’s staring at him wide-eyed because she can barely make out the outline of his irises from this distance, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

Hisoka removes himself from the tree. His eyes are glued to her parting lips, and his own mouth is ajar. He approaches her again until his face is only inches from hers, and holds her chin delicately in between his thumb and index finger. Hisoka tilts her chin up. There’s an energy buzzing throughout her: she’s literally vibrating in between his fingers. It’s slight, yet warming. _So interesting._ Tesoro’s wide eyes follow his with fervor, as if she knows he wants to punch her in the face right now--as if she’s actively searching for an indication for when his fist is going to mobilize. That’s what he thinks, at least. His eyes have squinted into slits, and he's smiling like a pervert. 

Tesoro starts to hum quietly while she peers into his eyes as though they contain her dreams; which, she hopes, they soon will. Hisoka breathes in deeply, and his head starts to feel cloudy--which isn't unwelcome. Actually, he's thrilled. He shuts his eyes, and listens. Her soft humming mixes with eerie, dead silence surrounding them. She's sucking him in--and he's aware, but he likes it. 

“Hmm,” he purrs, “Since it’s a date you want… I’m open to bargaining.” 

He tilts her chin up, and their noses bump. Their lips touch. Tesoro shudders and she closes her useless eyes. 

“I'm so glad,” she whispers. His lips form a sly smile.

He smells heady; like ripe strawberries, messy kisses, and blood. _God._ She can't wait for him to worship her already. She grabs a fistful of his crop top and yanks him closer so that his abdomen presses up against her, and she can feel his hard cock twitch beneath his billowy pants. _That’s it_. 

Hisoka poorly suppresses a moan. “I feel like I don’t really need to say this at this point, but I accept your bet.” 

“Then go ahead. Tell me about myself.” 

“Goodness. You’re so eager. We’ll get there. I want to take it slower. Can’t we take things slow?”

Both of them are oblivious to 1: the amount of lustful aura they’re sending out, and 2: the fact that, because of it, they’ve drawn everyone’s attention. Satotz included, who decides this is a good time to leave:

“Everyone, job well done. The Visca Forest Reserve is the venue for the Second Phase. I’ll take my leave now. I wish everyone the best of luck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, reviews, bookmarks, and kudos are greatly appreciated. Not gonna lie, they motivate me to write more. 
> 
> Also, side note, mostly for myself. I need to get my shit together because I've edited this chapter WAY too much since publishing it. Sorry to everyone who read this three days ago (teehee whoops). My next update will take longer. I'm going to force myself to work out all the kinks beforehand.... hopefully.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. The State of Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut smut smut
> 
> *significant edits as of 2/5/2020*

“Pigs?” Tesoro mutters, not at all under her breath, “Pigs are everywhere.” She stands among her fellow examinees as they are debriefed by the next examiners, Menchi and Buhara. In front of her, a common fellow turns his head and gives her a dirty look. 

“Who the heck--” he starts, but is shushed by who-knows and who-cares. He’s silent, but the man continues to frown at her with a reddening face, clenched fists, and--if Tesoro imagines hard enough--fire coming out of his ears. Tesoro waves cheerily while mouthing ‘ _hello piggy,_ ’ and then blows him a big kiss, which doesn’t cool his rage; quite the contrary. The man loses any semblance of composure. He spins on his heel and confronts her in a stare down just inches from her nose, but she’s unwavering. After all, his reaction was crafted. 

Pettiness, Tesoro thinks, born from indignant self-righteousness makes the irrational commoner fall for puerile jabs and elementary taunts, and it’s never _not_ funny. 

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” she whispers. “ _Y_ _ou are stupidly close to my face right now._ ” Her smile has widened enough that her golden back molar glints, taunting him. Though, to Tesoro’s disappointment, he does not try to pick a fight. She outfaces him and he turns away. 

But it’ll be okay, because standing next to Tesoro is Hisoka, who clears his throat to get the man’s attention again.

This time, when the common man turns around, his fist launches immediately for Tesoro’s face and his body slingshots in succession, like and afterthought. Hm. Why could that be. The poor sucker tries to retract himself, but is totally unsuccessful. Tesoro blocks and grabs his fist with an open palm, spins him by the arm, twists him off of his feet, and flips him onto the ground without so much as shifting her weight to her other hip. He grunts and wiggles around before her feet, stunned as if he’s had the rug yanked from under him. _So_ strange. 

She confirms her suspicions using gyo and sees Hisoka’s pink-sticky-- _or whatever he called it_ \--stuck to the stranger’s fist. Tesoro’s quirked look shifts to the aforementioned owner of said pink-sticky, standing just beside her. 

Hisoka doesn’t return eye contact, and stares blankly ahead, but he may as well be looking away and whistling candidly.

Tesoro clears her throat.

Hisoka turns slowly to meet her gaze, then he looks at the man, and then he resumes looking straight ahead with his arms folded and his hip cocked towards Tesoro. But she’s in the mood to start something.Tesoro continues to stare at Hisoka, egging him to confront her. He can’t deny the warmth he feels under her gaze as it dances from his eyes, down to his neck, and finally to his lips. Despite the time that has passed since their innocent little flirting episode, the sexual tension between them hasn’t dissipated at all. He smiles, which in turn makes Tesoro smile. It’s sweet. Hisoka obliges her by licking his lips slowly, and then he hears a content sigh. 

Tesoro seems satisfied. She turns her attention back to the examinees and holds her breath. She may not be able to see well, but she can hear better than most. She listens for the steady cadence of Hisoka’s breathing, and concentrates hard enough to parse out his calmly thumping heartbeat beneath the cacophony of a hundred people _breathing_ and 200 feet shifting around nervously and _22 people whispering and for heaven’s sake there is so much noise_ but Tesoro narrows her focus to _one heartbeat_. Why? Because she can--because she has time. More importantly, it can be a convenient way to recognize someone on certain occasions. Hisoka’s pulse, for instance, is slow--slower than any pulse she’s ever heard--which makes it a unique identifier.

“Let the Exam’s Second Phase,” Buhara smacks his tum like a gong, “begin!” 

Finally. She takes off with the rest of the group into the forest with Hisoka at her heels. He wears a tight lipped smile and a shifty glimmer in his eyes, and as everyone else peels away into the brush searching for animals, he remains just an arm’s reach behind Tesoro, because they obviously have unfinished business together.

He watches her thick, beautiful ass bounce as she runs, and he hides his contentment about it poorly.

“What're you giggling about back there?” 

“Me?” he chimes. “Did I giggle? You’re going to have to jog my memory.”

Maybe this is obvious, but they aren’t going to be looking for pigs. 

Tesoro takes a couple running steps and launches herself high into the air above Hisoka’s watchful eye as he continues sprinting across the forest floor. She swings her legs in front of her, bends her knees, tucks her elbows to her chest, and and braces for a hard impact with the compact dirt. When she smashes into the ground, she sends out a wave with such high amplitude that when it rolls underneath Hisoka, he almost trips. Though he hasn’t seen one of this magnitude, he expected the wave, but he does not expect the bone-shattering body slam that follows it. It breaks two of his ribs on impact. He’s suddenly on the ground, and Tesoro is pinning his hands above his head. He blinks up at her, looking dazed. _She’s so fast._

“ _Ahh_ , that’s so good.” Hisoka groans. Tesoro’s face looms over his, and her legs straddle his torso lazily. “You’re good at that.”

“Uh-oh,” she brings a thumb to her mouth and licks, and then rubs it against his chin. “You have a smudge.” She furrows her brow when the smudge doesn’t go away. 

He angles his head so his eyes aren’t in direct sunlight, and the smudge shifts onto the ground. 

_It’s a shadow_. “ _Hm._ ” Damn her eyes.

“What did you plan to do once you got us here?” 

“Nothing, I'm improvising. Though you did say you wanted to take things slowly, and I would like to honor that by giving you the option to take over. What should we do next? What would make you comfortable?” She loosens her hold on his wrists and he takes the opportunity to lift his hand up to stroke her cheek, although it’s more of a patronizing gesture than it is endearing.

Hisoka chuckles. “How thoughtful of you.” 

“Thank you for noticing.”

This is a good vantage point for him. The sun shines through treetops above them and illuminates the left side of Tesoro’s face, and in particular, her huge, hooded, pink eyes. Those _eyes_ are something _else_ , Hisoka thinks. They have a lovely fierceness. _Ah._ He wants to gouge them out. She stares right back at him, wily--as though she's _also_ plotting _his_ death. So commanding. _So good._ He can’t wait to level her to a despondent mess. His chest starts to feel tight, and he takes a deep breath. Darkness envelops them both as Hisoka’s suggestive thoughts send him into an acute fervor of bloodlust. He chuckles quietly. His aura shrouds them both in a dense, inky cloud, yet it has the unintended (but not unwelcome) effect of stirring butterflies in her tummy.

The thing is, to Tesoro, passion is passion. Hisoka’s all-consuming, murderous twist on sadomasochism is as desirable as classic, obsessive affection in the beginning throes of romance. And therefore this interplay registers to her as a perfectly normal beginning to another thrilling and lethal love. In other words, when Hisoka so much as looks at her like he's going to kill her, it makes her wet. Nuts.

“I don’t know what I want yet. But,” he leers, “I want to let things happen naturally.” He watches as she blushes and turns her head away from his gaze, feigning bashfulness. 

“Of course, sweetheart. Take your _time--_ ” 

He grips her cheeks punishingly. Hisoka forces her face back towards him so he can continue eating her with his eyes, and _there she goes again,_ Tesoro is getting turned on.

However, it should also be mentioned, _anything_ kinky he does at this point would turn her on. Anything. He’s officially landed a position in her docket, so she’ll gladly meet him wherever his preferences lie: if he were a submissive bottom who liked being humiliated and wanted his balls slapped mercilessly, she’d gladly be his dominatrix; and if it’s what he’d like, she’d roleplay a wittle timid babysitter or an abrasive cop at the drop of a hat; she’d be happy to piss on him, if that’s what he wanted; and judging by their current trajectory, if he can only get off when he’s manhandling her and calling her a little slut, then she’d be thrilled to call him daddy. He can choke her, beat her, flog her, smother her, covet her, and ignore her, and she’d love him for it. Tesoro is into it all. Everything. Her boundaries are far and few between. One could go so far as to argue that her boundaries don’t exist.

“ _Ahnng--_ ” she shudders. The sound rings around in his head, disorienting him.

“I _love_ that.”

On impulse, he cracks his palm against her rib and launches her off rolling, wheezing, and gasping. Tesoro ends up on her back, clutching at the spot where he hit her. Her legs twist and she squeezes her thighs together, but she lets out a moan of a completely different caliber than that of pain. 

He reapproaches her with his arms akimbo and a heavy swagger to his step, absolutely oozing with malintent and arousal. His head is feeling fuzzy from the sounds she’s making, but he doesn’t mind. Actually, it has the contrasting effect of aiding his decision making at the moment, because if he had been left to his own reactive devices he might have spontaneously offed her already.

“I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to start us out on an equal playing field,” He smarms. “Was that too much, though? How many was it?” He’s asking about her ribs. He pushes his pointed shoe against the tender spot he just obliterated, and watches her cry in delight. “Oh I _really_ love that.”

“ _Thre_ _e_.” Thick tears roll down her cheeks. “I appreciate the sentiment. I agree that we should be equals.” His threatening, squinting eyes make her legs squirm, and her thighs clench together harder. She removes her hands to invite him to continue touching her there, and lets out a sonorous gasp when he obliges.

“ _Tesoro,_ ” he coos, voice leaden with warning, “Be careful.”

And she moans just from hearing him say that. 

Hisoka almost loses it. He lunges at her and plants his forearm over her collarbone to restrain her against the ground. He’s now more or less on all fours--knees on the forest floor beside her hips--hovering above her like a tease. She relents underneath him, still reeling and wheezing from the slam to her ribs, but her expression is licentious. She’s _loving_ this. It makes her so hot she has to unclench her legs in fear of coming prematurely. She closes her eyes and takes several deep, calming breaths to center herself.

Hisoka watches, rapt, as her body goes lax. Her behavior is intriguing enough to lessen his immediate need to smother her. He narrows his eyes at her. 

“Phew, that was a close call,” she pants after a moment. 

“For you, too? I thought it was just me.” 

And just like that, the hostile tension between them seems to resolve for the moment. 

“What were _you_ thinking about?” Hisoka presses, even though he knows exactly what she was thinking about.

“I will be happy to tell you, but it is time sensitive. You are going to have to wait for the time to arise again.”

" _Pl_ _ease_." Hisoka pulls a red rose out from behind Tesoro’s ear, and hands it to her sweetly. “You won’t tell me?”

“Sweetheart,” She grins, but tosses the flower far away with a flick of her wrist. He tries again with a daisy, and she flicks that away too. “Did you not hear me? Be patient.”

“ _Oh alright_ ,” he frowns. “You don’t like daisies?”

“No, I do like daisies. I also like tulips.” She states. _Tulips_? Hm. That's so strange. 

“You mean these?” He shows her the rose again.

“I did just say that, yes.”

"Eh." His expression goes blank. “What about,” Hisoka plucks a teensie tiny grass flower from right beside her head and waves it in front of her face, “this?” She follows the flower poorly and her eyes squint and widen slightly, looking past it _as though she can’t see it_. 

“Beautiful. Are you laughing at me?” She frowns. 

“Can I make a request?”

“Shoot.”

“Count the petals of this daisy for me.” He waves the tiny flower around, and it poofs back into a daisy. She regards him, smiling a closed lipped smile.

“You know, I like when people are forward with me.”

“Aha?” His eyes roll back and he tosses the daisy away, “You’re hysterical. Okay then. Tell me about your pretty pink eyes, Tesoro. I’m lost in them. They remind me of sunsets and pearly skies, and I’ve been so distracted that I’ve only just noticed that you can’t see well, can you?” 

“Well, I'm not _blind_.” 

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, I know, but I'm sensitive,” and full of shit. “Ori calls me blind.”

“That’s nice. Humor me. What _can_ you see with those pretty eyes?” His eyebrows go up. He starts to twirl a strand of her unruly hair with dextrous fingers. "You had me fooled. I'm honestly surprised."

"That's reassuring." She considers her answer for a moment, taking time to admire his blurred face. “I can see that you have a strong jaw, pretty mouth, and glimmering eyes. And that your body is phenomenal. You clearly maintain yourself well. Also, I have to tell you, I love that you wear makeup and jewelry. You look amazing,” she pats his cheek and tucks her chin. “What shapes are these? I've been so curious.”

His eyebrows go up.

“I can tell you're looking at me incredulously.”

“What card is this?” He flashes a king of diamonds close to her face.

“A suit card.”

“You don't know which suit card it is.” 

Tesoro squints at it and then shrugs. “Oh, I do not know. You are holding it too close. A jack? Why are you looking at me like that. I'm going to guess it's a jack of hearts. Am I right?”

“This is the same card as the one you chose earlier--I thought you’d chosen it on purpose. It’s the king of diamonds.”

“I mean, I _did_ choose it... What are the shapes on your face? I am dying to know.”

"Ah," Hisoka looks mischievous. “I don't know why, but now I don’t want to tell you,” he says, finally cracking that roguish smile again. 

“So mean.”

“Oh I know _,_ and you’ve been nothing but helpful.” 

“Please tell me?” Tesoro wriggles underneath him, and he removes his arm from her chest. 

“Alright, alright--you’re so persistent. It's very cute. But humor me again,” He adjusts so that he’s lying completely over her. His elbows rest on the grass on either side of her, and he sets his face in the curve of one of his palms. 

Hisoka looks into her eyes dreamily and starts twirling a strand of hair gently in between his fingertips.

Tesoro narrows her eyes at him. _What is this._

“What’s your _favorite_ color?” _This is different._

“Oh. I love gold. Your eyes are golden, right?” 

“There you go flattering me again. _Ah_. You’re too much. One of the shapes is a tear, the other is a star.” He kisses the apple of her cheek with such soft lips that it makes Tesoro shudder. Her gears start to turn, and Tesoro starts welcoming her confusion when heat and urgency returns to the spot between her legs.

“Wow you're hot.” _Passion is passion_ , she thinks. _That is that._ She snakes both hands up to cradle the back of his head, and pushes him closer. Their noses bump. "I can die happy now."

Hisoka smiles knowingly as his eyes automatically close. He takes in a deep breath. She smells like roses and blood and it makes his head feel light. 

Then, without warning, Tesoro slams his head down upon hers with a crippling _thwack_ \--but now he couldn’t be bothered to fight her. It’s disorienting, sure, but he’s reveling in it. Her fist connects with his jaw and he goes flying. He starts humming out of contentedness. Why? It’s hard to say. He’s not particularly submissive, and it’s not like she isn’t worth fighting right now. Hm. He _does_ want to see what she’ll do to him when left to her own devices, but there’s something else going on at the same time--something amorphous, unconventional, and yet affectionate.

There’s a firm tug at his crop top, and he’s suddenly shooting back to the ground back-first like a rag doll. Dust explodes from the ground at his abrupt impact. It’s fast and hard and powerful and he's jostled from his trance. Suddenly _he cannot_ wait _to wreck_ _her_.

Tesoro watches his face twist in delight. _That's it._ She too smiles, and then she forces a change of pace again. Tesoro straddles his midsection, delicately cups his face in her hands, and then plants her lips over his in a loving kiss before he's able to slam his fist into her jaw. The contrast between this and the beating she just gave him makes his head spin for a moment, and a shiver shoots down his spine. So exciting. His fist relaxes, and he holds the back of her head as he eagerly kisses her back. 

_Aha._ Her mind is whirring. _Got you._ He must also be into vanilla sex _as well as_ it’s extreme opposite. This particular discovery--especially considering how brutally sadistic he is--is among the more kinky things she’s encountered. Tesoro contains her glee over this realization poorly with a vocalized sigh.

Hisoka tastes blood. He blinks hard, opens his eyes mid-kiss, and sees blood dripping down her face. She gave herself a disgusting nosebleed from that headbutt. How grotesque. He grabs a handful of her hair at the back of her head and restrains her so that he can kiss her harder, eliciting another plummy moan from Tesoro. 

“You're so _hot_ ,” she mutters into open mouthed, panting kisses. “I'm so impressed.” 

“Are you evaluating me?” 

“Of course.” 

Not only that, she’s customizing herself for him. How sweet. 

She bites his lower lip, and sucks on it gently. Tesoro finds that hardness between his legs, and presses against it with rolling hips. She giggles, and his head starts to feel pleasantly numb. Yet another pattern is emerging. He’s becoming comfortably aware of how potent her little whispering whimpers, chiming laughs, and mewling moans are, because his mind is literally buzzing with a high he’s never experienced before and it’s all thanks to her little suggestive, wordless hums and airy grunts. He pulls her up and kisses her again sweetly. She moans into it, and his head fills with that lovely high--and he’s sure he’s getting it. He’s unravelling her. Hisoka chuckles. Two can play this game. 

Sensing a change in atmosphere, Tesoro cups his jaw in her hands, and relaxes atop him. 

“Is it time to play that game, now? I'm impatient. I can't wait to make you dinner.”

“Hmm.” He tuts, kissing her again softly, “Don’t get ahead of yourself--no one can say what the outcome will be. Though, I couldn’t resist if you asked me out after I win.” If he doesn't kill her, that is. 

“So cocky. Okay. Come on, then. What is it that you are right about, 44?” She looks at him bright eyed and watches as his face falls. 

He’s actually grimacing at her and furrowing his brow. 

“ _Yes_?” She purses her pouty lips. Tesoro’s ears perk, and she turns her head slightly to get a better listen. Hisoka catches the gesture, and looks in the direction she’s focused. He senses them too--it's a charging herd of pigs--but he keeps going. 

“Darling. If you’re going to ask me out, and if you want me to say yes, you’re going to have to start calling me by my name.”

“My _goodness_ , Bernard. You are so right, that's so rude of me.” She taps her chin, “What was your name again?” She fucking knows what it is and she’s so fucking obvious about it.

He smirks. “Hisoka.” 

“Got it, _Hisoka_.”

“ _That’s_ it. Who’s Bernard?” 

“Bernard is my guard--you will meet him.” She removes herself from him, stands up, and dusts herself off as though recovering from a clumsy trip. He smiles up at her and stretches out, hands behind his head. 

“Right, when I come over.” 

Tesoro mutters something under her breath as the huge animals rush by them, and then she leaps high up into the trees. “Well, unfortunately we'll have to postpone this again. At any rate, I'm glad we're at least on the same page now.” Tesoro calls down from her branch, and then she disappears leaping through the treetops. 

Hisoka slaughters the next examinee on sight, laughing.

* * *

Tesoro ended up stealing a pig from someone--because she can, and because it’s fun--and now she’s trying to cook it, but it turns out she doesn’t know how. The meat before her bursts into flames for the second time this afternoon. She doesn’t know what to do, so she douses it with a bucket of water after the first layer of char crumbles off and a new, pristine layer of char takes its place. It’s a mess. 

“What in the _world_?” Oriana gawks. She’s only a few kitchen sets away. "Aren't you like... a chef?"

“This should hardly be a surprise, Ori. I don't know how to cook _animals._ I’m a _vegetarian_.”

A certain pinhead turns slightly to regard Tesoro, and he’s met with a cheeky wink. They’re cooking next to one another, and he’s observed both of the instances in which Tesoro’s ignited hog has super-caramelized straight to carbon. The smell is unpleasant and it makes his nose wrinkle. 

When it comes time to judge, Tesoro isn’t even permitted to approach the stage. Goodness. How fortunate for her that this phase of the exam is canceled. As luck would have it, the next version of Phase 2 is less of a catastrophe. Tesoro cleanly and fairly obtains her _own_ goddamn egg the _fair_ way, and cooks it satisfactorily. 

“You know, for a second there you were embarrassingly close to getting disqualified.” 

“I'm never embarrassing.” Tesoro takes a bite out of the perfect, golden egg and smiles a beautiful smile. After all, these are dream eggs--and Tesoro loves a good dream. “Oriana, remember this place,” so she may be able to return again.

Ori shakes her head, “ _How_ can you seriously think that? Your perception of what goes on around you is so--like-- _ugh_.”

“Sweetheart, I admit, I have no idea what you are talking about. Every one of us has the uncanny ability to see only what we want to--and you are no exception to that,” Tesoro licks her fingers and closes her eyes. “ _Gosh_ that's so good.”

“Hypocrite,” Oriana mutters. “You have no shame.”

And Oriana couldn't be more right. Behind them, Hisoka lands at the edge of rift with his freshly procured egg. At this point, Tesoro is familiar enough with the small sounds his body makes, and can identify him despite lacking a definitive visual. Tesoro's smile widens mischievously. 

Oriana narrows her eyes. “What are you--”

And then Tesoro claps her hands together.

Hisoka’s egg blows up. Yolk goes everywhere. Everyone gawks in awe and in fright. Tesoro also turns to have a look, and her pretty pink eyes twinkle at him.

He glares at her--yolk the same golden color of his eyes drips down his forehead--but then he smiles, because Hisoka may suffer the sins of lust and pride, but he does not often suffer wrath. He’s a refreshing sort of sadist, because his motives lie not in anger, but unconventional love: love for power, love for fatal dominance, and possibly a love for climaxes (to be determined), _but not_ _anger_. Case in point, she--a kinky bitch who is plotting to become his mortal sub--just burst sticky goo all over his face and shirt and skin and hair in an obvious attempt to provoke him, and he’s taking it sangfroid like a perfect fucking tease. It makes her heart leap with joy. Most doms she’s known would’ve instantly tackled her to the ground in punishment for humiliating them like that, but not Hisoka, because Hisoka must not feel volatile, petty things like humiliation. 

Hisoka and Tesoro regard one another in silent understanding. Everyone else is still staring, so Hisoka puts on a show:

“ _That was fun_. Did everyone see what just happened?” he wonders aloud. 

No one responds.

“Shame. You all need to be paying better attention--let me give you a heads up. You’re going to want to watch me very closely, now.” He turns away, tosses the empty, broken shell into the rift while producing a large cloth tissue from his pocket. Hisoka wipes the gooey egg from his face, shakes it out, and then tosses the napkin high into the air. When it descends back down to his open hand, there’s a new egg in it. 

“Now what did you observe?” Hisoka grins. Anyone who could use gyo could see he plucked a new egg with Bungee Gum and attached that strand to the cloth, but most people here have no idea what just happened.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

“You can’t just do that!”

“Do _what?_ Cheat? That’s very rude--to think I would cheat,” he smirks. “This is serious.”

“You’ve got dream-yolk on your forehead,” Tesoro calls across the open space between them.

“Oh?” Hisoka smears the sticky, yellow goop off of his face with a delicate finger, and licks it off. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Sure. Consider it reparation.”

His smile crinkles. “You’re hilarious.”

Oriana looks back and forth between the two and backs away instinctively. The energy around her sister is now order of magnitudes more fucked up with this homicidal clown-guy around. Maybe she has a bias, though, because 44 gives her the creeps and she already knows how much of a freak Tesoro is. Oriana makes eye contact with Hisoka briefly, and he winks. Suddenly, she doesn’t want to know what’s going on and she scurries away to find Gon and Killua.

“I don’t know what it is… but she’s up to something. That clown guy is like… I don’t know. She’s more freaky than usual. I’ve honestly never seen her like this,” she lets out a nervous sigh and scratches the back of her head. “I shoulda left her at _home,_ ” she adds.

“They’re huge freak magnets,” Killua says. Gon nods his head in agreement. “They probably would have found each other eventually. Believe me.”

* * *

Hours later, Tesoro dances down the twisting halls of the airship en route to Phase 3. She’s searching for an empty room with enough privacy so that she may masturbate in peace, which she hopes will distract her from the her intermittent, gnarly headaches, that only seem to go away when she’s around a certain pink-loving boy. She comes to a sudden halt in front of a closed door when she hears the distinct uncorking of a wine bottle _._ Tesoro gives two courtesy knocks before letting herself into a very plain and very windowless sleeper-room. 

“What a delightful lure--you are already a massively effective Hunter,” Tesoro smiles. There’s an open bottle of wine on the floor set just in front of a reclined Hisoka. He’s propped with a laxness in his hips, and languorous tilt to his head that leaves his pretty neck exposed. He looks like he could be a naughty roman statue splayed on a stone daybed yet he’s in a fluorescent, sterile room aboard an artless, stuffy airship. Tesoro mourns for her bedroom.

“Here I thought you were going to head straight for the bar,” Hisoka teases. Tesoro shrugs and bites her lip.

“I considered it,” _but my panties have been so wet because of you,_ “yet here I am, and here you are.”

“Here we are. I unfortunately only have one glass, though,” He takes a sip out of said single glass. “Depending on your position on ‘sharing is caring’, you may need to go get another.”

“Hmm,” Tesoro taps her finger to her chin. She has no qualms with sharing, but naturally she prefers drinking her wine from chalices if she can help it.

“ _Shucks_ , what do we do, now?” He pouts. 

"Hold on," she reaches deep into a pocket in her pants and digs around for a moment, "I may have a solution.” Her forearm practically disappears into her pocket and then her eyes suddenly go wide. When she retracts her hand, she produces a travel-sized brass drinking utensil seemingly out of nowhere. 

“I _knew_ I had another.”

Hisoka has no idea what she’s talking about, but he grins nonetheless in sympathy.

“Gosh. You’re _cute_. Does anyone ever call you cute?” he asks.

“Truly never.”

“Well, they ought to. I think you’re cute.”

“I'm flattered.” Tesoro sits down in front of him and crosses her legs. She pushes the chalice across the tile floor and he pours her a generous cupful while keeping his eyes dead-set on hers. They cheers, and drink.

"I feel like I can be candid with you--can I be candid with you?"

"Honey, of course. I would like that very much."

"Alright," Hisoka taps his lips. "I feel like I'm harboring something like a crush on you, Tesoro."

Her eyes go wide. _Forward_. She likes it. 

_"It's so exciting,_ and correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like you're feeling similarly towards me."

"Oh wow, is it obvious?" she teases. "Yes. You're right. I'm very attracted to you."

They regard each other in silent understanding again. She takes another sip of the wine and pretends it has the same effect on her as water, but a warm relief is already spreading throughout her body. She wants to down that sucker like a shot. To distance temptation, Tesoro places the chalice on the floor, but she can’t let go of the stem. She clears her throat and relocates her gaze from the golden cup to Hisoka’s golden eyes.

“Well, not to derail that conversation, but I think we have enough time, now.”

“Ah. By all means... I guess you’re right,” he starts. “Oh- _kay_." He swirls the glass around gently, gripping the stem with lithe fingers. “Thanks for waiting for me, you’ve been so patient. Let's get started."

“ _Please,_ " she begs.

Hisoka’s smiling eyes regard her as he takes a particularly long, slow sip of his wine. He clears his throat. “You’re not an emitter.” 

She neither agrees nor disagrees, but waits for him to continue.

“Well, you’re likely a specialist at this point--you’re very, _very_ good at emission--but your forte is in manipulation. So fun. It had me for a moment. That card trick was clever, and so are your waves. It's an excellent diversion, and it would be believable but, if I’m totally honest with you you’re nothing like an emitter. You’re too good at diverting attention. Your character is a distracting saga of colorful displays and flashy exposés--you’re not an outright liar, but you're very dishonest. There's some integral part of your character that I'm still missing, but that's because you're hiding very carefully.” Hisoka takes a pause to sip his wine again. Perhaps he’s trying to get her to do the same. He hasn’t truly discovered her addictive personality quite yet, but he intends to.

Tesoro remains perfectly still. She isn’t compulsive about mirroring people.

“You avoid talking about yourself, but you also don’t shy from admitting things when you’re confronted. I asked you to count the petals of a daisy, and you immediately caught on that I had seen through you, so you admitted you have bad eyesight--which was shrewd. Well played. So, you’re such a good actor that your masquerades have become a natural act; you’ve tried to seduce and provoke me several times with that handsome face of yours; and your goals are so well disguised that it’s easy to forget you even have them, so you can’t possibly be a hot-headed emitter.” 

Tesoro remains quiet, but she’s starting to smile a small smile. 

He tucks his chin, “I really _could_ stare into those pretty pink eyes for hours… You’re incredibly charming. And-- _oh_ \--you’re strong, too. Deadly combo. I bet you’ve worked very hard. Sounds? Tremors? It's very versatile nen--I can’t wait to see how you manipulate. You must have absurd limitations, otherwise you wouldn’t have worked so hard to guard yourself. It makes me so excited to see how you’ll do it--oh, what is it? You can make me dizzy with just a hum--I wonder, do you use that angelic voice of yours too? Do you make people grovel at your feet like you’re their god or something?" His eyes light up. "Ah. That's it. Isn't it? That’s why you wear a crown. So thrilling. Well, count me in. I’ll grovel for you, Tesoro, you’re a queen.” 

“This is hot."

"Ah. For you, it must be.” He’s being patronizing again--he likes to be patronizing. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes! Do not stop.”

“Okay, you got it. I'll keep going. Your relationship with your sister--how do I put it? It’s a farce. Maybe not to her--she’s too innocent--but to you, definitely. You play with her like she's food; though you do seem pretty obsessed with her. Perhaps you see her as your toy? I can sympathize if that's the case.” He pauses, regarding her. “ _Y_ _es._ You covet her, don’t you? I understand. She seems so sweet, and talented. Her nen is sofun. Is she a specialist? She doesn't seem trained at all. I caught that move in the tunnel--and you’re right, it _was_ hysterical. The look you made when you fell through that portal was hilarious--on a side note, I love how expressive you are. I won’t say anything about how you’re setting her up to _anyone_ , promise, but a little word of advice: you should exercise caution over who you’re trying to provoke. Ori dear may get hurt--or worse--if you’re not careful, and then what would you do?”

That little nugget is his winning statement of the evening. Tesoro officially decides she’ll fight him. She finally takes a sip of wine. He’s taking in her slight gesture of admittance.

“You're impressed, again.”

“Can you me what makes you think I'm setting her up?" Tesoro requests. 

Hisoka holds up his glass of wine. “It was your ‘addiction’ performance. You were too forthcoming with her, you know that, and made yourself look codependent... Which makes her dangerously leverageable. Fortunately for you--or is it unfortunate--I think I was the only one who caught on. I've had a little more time to get to know you, after all. Also, on a different note, I’ve been struggling with something. Humor me again--you’re so good at it--where does the blood-drinking fall into all of this?” he flashes her a dark smile. “And do you have a preferred type?” 

“Aha! Wow... I thought you might have seen through that little scene,” she says. “And you are almost spot on regarding the relationship I have with my sister: I do love her, but it is complicated. Love is a different word for me than it is for others.” She regards him with her lips pursed. “Anyways. That was cool. You are cool.” 

He toasts to her. 

“This was fun.” She downs the contents of her chalice, pours another full glass, downs that, tosses the cup aside where it bounces against the tinny wall, nods at nothing in particular, and then reassures him, “Okay, I will fight you. Also, sweetness, to answer your question: _you_ are my type.”

Hisoka makes all sorts of excited noises.

“We will fight after the exam. My house. No one will bother us there. I’ll make you dinner afterwards.” 

“ _Ah_.” That will be days--maybe weeks from now, Hisoka thinks, somewhat deflated. He’s not turned off by the thought of waiting because he does it _all_ the time, but she’s ripe _right_ _now._ “I make big messes. Are you sure you want to offer your home? We could for instance use this room.”

“No--you are going to have to wait. We will fight at my house. Make a mess if you must. You want a fair fight, and I will give you a fair fight.” 

He feels butterflies in his chest. Hisoka considers his options: he _could_ provoke her right now, which would be so fun. But if he provokes her and things get out of hand (which would _honestly_ be _ideal_ ), he would definitely incur the wrath of Illumi Zoldyck who is expecting Hisoka’s comradery at least until the end of the exam. Because he still also wants to be able to fuck Illumi senseless, this may be a bad option. Also, if Hisoka fails again this year, he’ll have to come _back,_ but it’s not like he doesn’t gain anything from retaking this exam. He closes his eyes so that he may calm down, because he’s suddenly getting crazy turned on. 

“Okay. It’s a date,” Hisoka chuckles quietly. 

Tesoro wonders if he’s planning to provoke her sooner than that, and quickly decides she should talk to Oriana. Hm. Or she could just order a preemptive ‘down dog’, but where’s the fun in revealing herself _now_ after that big-dick display? She smiles to herself.

“What has got you smiling? Please share.” Hisoka presses. 

“I am happy… What are _you_ smiling about? You look dangerous, honey.”

Hisoka sets his wine glass down beside him, and leans slightly towards her. The air between them grows cold. She watches as a darkness threatens the air around them. _That’s it._

“I’m getting all excited,” he says, voice heavy. “I don’t think I want to wait for you.” 

Tesoro’s eyes flicker from his hands to his chin and finally to his piercing gaze. They freeze.

What happens next seems to do so in slow motion: he lunges straight for her throat, tackles her with a forceful slam to the ground, and pins her head to the floor with Bungee Gum, eyes on fire. She gasps in excitement: he looks like he’s going to kill her again. _That’s it,_ Tesoro thinks with glee. Her legs cross underneath him and she clenches her thighs, shuddering. The pressure around her throat and the intense heat between her legs makes her choke out a needy sob. 

Hisoka sees red. His head starts vibrating and his eyes roll back. He feels uncharacteristically dizzy, and has the urge to bite his lip which doesn’t happen often. 

“ _Tesoro_ \--”

She snatches Hisoka’s collar and yanks him down into an open-mouthed, desperate, panting kiss. He removes his hold from her neck, and flicks a string of Bungee Gum over to the door to slam it shut.

The energy in the room shifts from hostile to fervid in the blink of an eye.

Hisoka kisses her deeply while holding the back of her head in one hand and groping at her hip with the other. She’s hot, and strong, and demanding, and dirty, and _god_ he’s suddenly not thinking about douting the fire from her eyes and instead he’s thinking about the impossibly sexy way her thick ass bounces when she runs. He imagines what it’s going to look like bearing down upon him when they fuck.

His hand grabbing her hip shifts to her tummy and it sends her into a little squirmy frenzy. She pushes herself into the kiss harder and fists his shirt in one of her hands, wiggling and writhing underneath him. She’s _begging_ him to touch her. 

His hand slowly wanders lower. 

And lower.

_And lower._

Until it’s resting just above the pulsing heat between her legs. Tesoro’s brow knits and she whines.

“Yes?”

“ _Touch_ me,” she pleads, voice cracking. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hisoka purrs. “This has gotten heady awfully fast. I thought we were going to take things slowly.”

He clearly wants her to beg, so Tesoro does that for him immediately.

And then, Tesoro shudders and she feels her face flush. He’s touching her. This is going so well that it makes her heart leap.

He curls his fingers flush to the curve of her cunt, still hidden beneath her clothes, and teases her with light pressure. Hisoka watches her face as she succumbs to a stunning display of vulnerability: teary eyelashes flutter over her pretty pink eyes, cheeks blush an alluring shade of pink, and wet, kiss-swollen lips conform to soft whimpers and nippy teeth. He pushes his hand up against her harder, and it makes her moan in ernest. Suddenly his ears are ringing with a full, heady sensation. Hisoka blinks hard. He feels like he’s in outer space. It's not bad per say, but he punishes her by removing his hand from her vulva. If she were being a sub for him right now, she'd beg for him to touch her more; but she doesn't think he would prefer that.

If Tesoro has learned anything about Hisoka at all, it's that he's turned on by even the suggestion of a fight.

So Tesoro punches him. Hard. Hard enough to send him across the room. She folds her arms and watches him intently as he rolls to a stop, breathing heavily like he's just staved away an orgasm. "Tesoro," he sighs heavily, and stands up slowly, groaning, "Ah, wow. You're fun." From across the room, he mirrors her posture by folding his arms and cocking a hip. Hisoka chuckles, and then Tesoro finally smiles back at him. " _So good._ " He's concerned that he may spontaneously choke her to death if they were any closer right now, so he keeps his distance. "You're too fun."

"I know. Shall we talk through this?"

"Sure." He rubs his cheek, looking like he's in a dreamland. 

"Alright. Well. You clearly love to fight." 

"Ah, it's true."

"Fighting turns you on."

"Mhm. It really does."

"I admire that." Tesoro adjusts her hands from her torso to a spot behind her neck. "When I punched you just now, did it make you want to fuck me, fight me, or kill me?"

He chooses to answer that by licking his lips. "What do you think."

"I think all three."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Horny." Tesoro crosses one leg over the other, and takes time considering what she wants to say next. "Alright. I have already told you that I will fight you, that we are going to have this fight at my house after the exam, and that I intend for it to be an full, fair fight. Now, I would like to set a precedent." She pauses.

"Oh, please go on." He still has a dreamy look in his eyes. 

"Goodness gracious. You're so fucking hot. If you'd like to fight right now, then I want you to agree that it won't be the last fight we have. And I want you to agree that you won't prevent me from completing this exam." 

"Ah, you’ve figured me out. That's very cute. If we were to fight right now, I think I could agree to those terms." Hisoka smiles a big smile. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and centers himself. Once he's staved away the urge to smother her, he slowly approaches her. "I could promise this wouldn't be our last fight. And I might promise that you'd be capable aferwards." He comes to a stop before her feet. "But I have a corrolary." Because if they were to fight right now, he'd definitely kill her. That just wouldn't do.

"Do you?"

With the flick of his wrist, Hisoka removes the Bungee Gum behind Tesoro's head.

"Yes. Can you stand up?"

Tesoro smiles. She stands up slowly and gives him a sultry once-over.

"Now," he says, voice heavy. "Would you take off your clothes, dear?"

Tesoro's eyes widen in excitement. She strips. She’s not wearing underwear, and he thinks this is surprisingly on brand. Her last piece of clothing remaining is her bra. Once it's unclasped, she tosses it away, and puts her hands on her hips. She looks at him like she wants to tackle him to the floor. Hisoka feels butterflies.

"What is your corrolary?"

“That if I were to choose not to fight you right now, I'd want you to do as I say. So, Tesoro, _can you do as I say?_ ”

“I will do whatever you want.”

"Ah, good. I thought so," He wiggles his eyebrows and unfolds his arms. Hisoka holds her chin delicately. "I want to continue with what we were doing before you sent me across the room with your pretty fist."

Tesoro nods her head, closes her useless eyes, and bites her lower lip. She wants to press her body up against his and grind on him. Instead, she gulps. He told her to do as he says, and she intends to.

He places a hand on her hip and tugs her against him. She can feel his already-hard cock underneath his pants, and it makes her head go fuzzy. She wonders how long he's been hard. Is this man always hard? That would be hot. Tesoro wraps a hand around the back of his head and pushes his face towards hers. Their noses bump. Their lips brush. She pushes harder, but he resists. She can't quite reach his lips. He's teasing her.

"Mm. Get on the floor."

She wraps both hands behind his head and pushes harder. Their foreheads press together. He relents just slightly, and their lips brush, but that's it. That's all he gives her. Tesoro licks her lips and whines.

"Ah, don't make me say it again."

She begrudgingly gets on the floor, and Hisoka follows her down. He presses a hand to her chest to keep her from moving as he grabs the back of her head for a moment, and then releases. Her head is stuck to the floor with Bungee Gum again.

“Don’t stop writhing,” he says. “I love it.”

She didn't notice she was writhing. Tesoro nods.

“Good girl. Spread your legs. Don't make any noise unless I tell you to.”

Tesoro spreads her legs enthusiastically. 

“Stop touching your tits, and put your hands at your sides.”

Her palms spread against the ground. Her fingers strain and relax, clench and unclench. He watches a shiver propogate from her neck down to her toes, and he feels it where his knees touch the ground. His eyes go wide. _So fun._ Hisoka wonders if she can make her own hands into her own personal vibrator.

“Put your knees up, darling, and keep your legs spread. I’m going to look at you.”

Tesoro forces herself not to moan as she does as she's told. Hisoka licks his lips and takes her in: her delicate inner labia, splayed in front of him in a beautiful display, is the same dusty rose color as her nipples, and the same flushed dark pink hue as her lips. He can see she’s a glistening, wet mess already. 

“ _Ah_ \--that's hot. How long have you been wanting me?” He reaches into his pants and adjusts himself. 

“Since you introduced yourself.” This doesn’t surprise him. She’s especially sensitive to sounds. Conceitedly, he thinks about how hot his voice is probably making her feel right now. 

“Have you touched yourself?”

“No.”

“Did you want me to make you come?”

" _Nngh_ \--" Tesoro squirms and tries not to moan.

“ _Tesoro_. Are you there? _Do you want me to let you to come_?”

“ _Y_ _es_.”

“That's good _._ ” He watches her more as she struggles to resist seeking sensation. “You're so horny. I love it. Don’t cross your legs, and keep your hands at your sides, please.” 

She stops hugging her arm over her torso. Her legs somehow splay further open than before, and one foot begins to lift off of the floor.

"You like telling me what to do," she sighs and stares up at him, "hm?"

"Tell me you _don't_ like it."

"I would be lying."

"What _wouldn't_ you like?"

She licks her lips, but other than that, Tesoro has no response. Hisoka chuckles. 

"Oh? Nothing? Really?"

Tesoro smiles.

"Alright, I believe you. Goodness you are pretty." He continues gazing down at her, admiring her killer figure, and she keeps smiling at him. "You have an amazing ass."

She kicks him in the stomach, and Hisoka grabs her foot mid-air. She grins up at him with a cheeky closed-lip smile. His cock strains behind his pants. Now he wants to fuck her. But he's not done teasing her yet.

He gets on all fours and then sprawls out before her, propping himself with his elbows, and resting his head against that raised leg. Her firm, soft ass makes for a great pillow, and he can feel that vibrating, warm energy buzzing through her under his cheek. He strokes a hand up and down her other leg with light, lingering fingers and takes in a deep breath. She smells like sex. _He wants to fuck her._ His cock is so hard it’s starting to ache and precum is dripping from its head through his underwear. 

“Okay, for staters then,” He kisses her clit, and it makes her tummy twitch, "let's take things slow. What do you think?"

"Honey, do whatever you want I'm completely at my leisure," Tesoro bites her lip, she can’t look at him because her head is fixed to the ground by his Bungee Gum. "I can come from many kinds of stimulation."

"That's exciting," Hisoka hums.

She takes in a deep breath and desperately tries not to moan when he kisses her clit again, this time using tongue. She shudders--it’s impossible not to. She’s so wound. The shiver propogates to him, and rolls across his spine. Hisoka smirks. _So fun_. He loops his arms under her legs and pulls himself against her, and she groans.

“Tesoro, dear, don’t make noise unless I say you can,” he says. “And please don’t make me repeat myself again.”

" _So_ _mean_."

"I'm the _worst,_ I know."

Hisoka rubs his nose against her wet slit, and her legs become so relaxed that her hips almost disengage. Now she’s lifted both of her feet from the ground, and the full bottom half of her ass is on display for him. What in the world is someone so strong and so fast doing with such a sweet, jiggly ass. 

He drags his tongue from the base of her slit, all the way to her clit once, and then again. Her legs move more. She’s so fucking sensitive. She bites her lip, and breathes deeply, trying not to vocalize. 

“ _Thank you_. I can see it’s hard for you not to do that.”

He kisses her clit again, seeing that she likes it, and then he lips form a small seal over it. He suckles it softly, and flicks his tongue back and forth, gently at first and then harder over time. Tesoro squirms and continues trying not to moan. She grabs one of her tits and rolls her hips around in Hisoka's face. He hums into her, and suddenly she's so close to coming she grabs a handful of his hair and pushes his face into her, but he resists her. Tesoro groans.

His head feels wonderfully light. " _Uh-uh_ , quiet." 

And then he presses his nose to her clit and pushes his tongue into her.

Tesoro bucks into him. Her feet brace against the floor, and she shifts her hips around his face as he pulls her harder against him, humming. His tongue flicks up and down inside of her, and it feels euphoric. Hisoka loves eating people out, and he’s exceptionally skilled at it mostly because he has a particularly long tongue. If he keeps doing this, he’s going to make her come very quickly. He knows it. She knows it.

Her heart rate quickens, and she feels pressure in her abdomen. He places his thumb over her clit so he can rub wet circles over it, and her hips buck in his face again.

“So, so good," he praises. She particularly likes hearing him speak to her, he notes, because anytime he says anything, she gently squeezes his head with her thighs.

Hisoka breathes in the smell of roses and sex and _fuck_ his cock is so hard. He removes himself from her for a moment and strips. Tesoro watches him in a daze, she can barely creen her neck far enough to see below his knees since she’s restrained, but it’s enough. He hops up quickly and shrugs his pants and underwear off, and she catches a glimpse of his beautiful cock. His pubic hair is a cute light color, and he’s handsomely groomed. Her mouth waters and she bites her lower lip with big eyes. He jumps right back into his place before her, as if he never moved. 

He starts pumping two fingers into her while his tongue and lips mouth at her clit. She chokes out a very small, very restrained gasp. He responds to this by thrusting his fingers into her harder but slower. This goes on for nary two minutes before the pressure in between Tesoro's legs becomes unbelievable. She can feel the tension in her legs, and in her abdomen, and in her chest, and in her hands. It’s everywhere. 

She hears the distinct squelching of a wet dick being fucked into a fist. Tesoro has been so distracted by the pleasure he's giving her to notice he's been jerking himself off, and it sets her off.

She clenches her legs around his head, and now he's on the same page as her.

He fucks his hand into her harder and faster, and it makes her body writhe and her head feel light. She feels like she’s in a dreamland. Nothing matters outside of this coming orgasm--the pressure doesn’t stop building. He’s going to make her come. She’s fucking losing it, and it makes Hisoka so excited.

“Alright, go ahead. I know you’ve been close this whole time. I want to hear you come.”

" _Hisoka_ \--" and suddenly, on command, she's coming.

She's reduced into a mewling, moaning mess as his pretty mouth worships her cunt and his fingers thrust into her mercilessly. She grabs her tits, whimpers, and cries out as the tension in her body releases in a shuddering climax while Hisoka tightens his grip on his cock and experiences something absolutely unprecedented: his mind descends into white noise and the next three pumps to his cock are so sensational that he cums into his twitching fist as though this was the first time he’s ever touched himself. The only thing he's aware of are her gasping moans.

“ _Fuck_ ,” is all he can say. He rests his head on her relaxed thigh and collapses before her.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere aboard the airship, Illumi finally happens across the door he's been looking for. He doesn't knock, he just lets himself in. He's finally found her. She's sleeping by herself in an empty cabin. What poor foresight on her end. However, he is pleased about this. He's also pleased that she didn’t decide to stay up with Gon and Killua, because that would have made what he’s about to do take longer.

He reaches into a special pocket sewn to the inside of his shirt and, from it, produces a small needle. Illumi holds the needle out in front of himself, pinching it between his thumb and index finger. He wills a dense, dark, cloud of aura to spill into and around it, and the process only illuminates the room for a moment. He makes no sound, and watches her intently, but he does not rouse Oriana from her slumber. 

Illumi smiles a small smile to himself, kneels next to her head, takes aim, and taps the needle seamlessly through her skull and into her brain without even waking her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Some QoD trivia) I wanted to share with you all why I'm writing this: I wanted to see women in the exam arc who were just as strong, fucked up, terrifying, and bad ass as the dudes (overall there should be way more womxn in that arc imo) and I wanted to see them interact with the main group of hooligans in a fun way. Also, evidently, I wanted to write some hot, fucked up smut.
> 
> Also, I realize Tesoro has only eaten men so far... but to be clear she has no gender preference. She's pan and poly.
> 
> Also also, teehee, big fan of Marina and the Diamonds <3 (I've used her songs as inspirations for chapter titles, among other things).
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please consider giving me encouragement with kudos/comments/bookmarks :) I feed off of your interaction with my writing, sooooo *wink wink* if ya wanna see faster updates, smash that like lol


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